UC-NRLF 


I? 
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OF  UNION  COLLEGE. 

T.Viwt  a  Portrait. 


10! 
I 

ON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  ulE  LATE  ;  [f 

PROFESSOR  AVERILL, 


lln  iflgmoflam  * 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 

REV.  WILLIAM  A.  BREWER,  D.D, 

Rector  £t.  Paul's  Episcopal  Church 

BURLING  AME,  CALIFORNIA 


Deo  *t  |>at*ia" 

1862-1931,  A.  D. 


OS  THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  LATE 

CHESTER    AVER  ILL,   A.  M. 

PROFESSOR   OF    CHEMISTRY    IN    UNION    COLLEGE. 

DELIVERED  AT  THE  REQUEST  OF  THE  FACULTY  OF  SAID  COLLEGE, 
ON  THE  EVENING  OF  JULY  16,  1637. 

BY   THE    REV.    THOMAS   C.   REED, 

Professor  of  Political  Economy. 


SCHENECTADY: 
PRINTED  BY  S.  S.  RIGGS,  23,  UNION-STREET. 

1837. 


AT  a  meeting  of  the  Faculty  of  Union  College,  held  July  20th,  1837,  it  was 

Resolved,  That  the  thanks  of  the  Faculty  be  relumed  to  Prof.  RKED,  for  the 
Discourse  delivered  by  him  on  the  evening  of  the  16th  inst,  in  memory  of  the  late 
Prof.  AVEE.ILL,  and  that  he  be  requested  to  furnish  a  copy  of  the  same  for  publica- 
tion. 


PROF.  REED, 

Dear  Sir — In  behalf  of  the  Students  of  Union  College,  we  are  instructed  to 
communicate  to  you  their  thanks  for  the  Discourse  commemorative  of  the  late  Prof. 
AVERILL,  delivered  by  you  on  Sunday  evening  last,  and  to  request  from  you  a  copy 
for  publication. 

Your  obedient  servants, 

L.  A.  MACKEY,  ADDISON  M.  BURT, 

W.  S.  TAYLOR,  A.  C.  BURKE, 

A.  T.  YOUNG,  M.  S.  SMEAD. 

Union  College,  July  2Qtk,  1837, 


828648 


DISCOURSE. 


NEXT  to  the  Deity,  a  virtuous,  powerful,  and  enlight- 
ened mind  is  the  noblest  object  of  human  contempla- 
tion. Viewed  merely  in  his  abstract  and  individual 
character,  the  man  of  moral  and  intellectual  power  is 
the  proudest  spectacle  which  the  world  exhibits. — 
Viewed  in  his  relations  to  society,  and  in  connection 
with  the  influence  of  his  virtues  and  talents  upon  the 
happiness  of  his  race,  his  existence  is  to  be  ranked 
among  the  most  valuable  of  the  Divine  blessings,  and 
his  death  among  the  most  afflictive  of  the  Divine  dis- 
pensations. And  when  the  Great  Destroyer  has  ter- 
minated his  earthly  career,  his  character  continues  to 
exert  its  influence  with  undiminished  vigor  upon  the 
destinies  of  those  he  has  left  behind  him.  The  elastic 
elements  of  which  society  is  composed,  may  close  over 
the  chasm  which  death  has  opened;  but  the  virtue 
and  the  talent  have  not  ceased  to  operate  upon  its  in- 
terests with  an  energy,  which,  though  silent  and  un- 
seen, is  yet  of  incalculable  value.  A  single  individual 
mind  may,  in  the  mighty  system  of  created  things,  be 


. 


DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

like  an  angle  at  its  vertex,  but  an  imperceptible  point ; 
but  like  that  angle,  when  its  sides  are  extended,  widens 
and  widens,  until  it  embraces  within  the  sphere  of  its 
influence  a  surface  whose  extent  is  immeasurable. 

Hence  the  propriety,  acknowledged  by  the  common 
feeling  of  mankind  in  all  ages,  of  analyzing  the  merits 
and  doing  justice  to  the  memory  of  the  dead.  Moral 
worth  and  intellectual  power  become  more  impressive, 
and  are  estimated  at  a  higher  value,  when  found  thus 
to  perpetuate  their  existence,  and  diffuse  their  bless- 
ings over  interests  with  which  they  have  held  no  im- 
mediate connection.  Integrity,  benevolence,  magna- 
nimity and  all  the  virtues,  beam  with  a  softer  and  a 
holier  radiance,  as  their  light  is  mellowed  by  the  sha- 
dows of  the  tomb;  and  an  emotion  to  purify  and  ele- 
vate, springs  forth  with  every  tear  which  bedews  the 
grave  of  departed  worth. 

I  feel  confident,  my  friends,  that  these  observations 
will  not  be  deemed  extravagant,  or  inapposite  to  the 
present  occasion.  Indeed,  those  difficulties  which 
have  to  be  encountered  by  him  who  undertakes  the 
public  praises  of  youthful  merit — merit,  which,  how- 
ever acknowledged  in  the  circles  of  private  friendship, 
has  not  been  made  known  to  the  world  by  any  signal 
or  illustrious  acts,  are  by  me  unfelt.  Whether  in  the 
estimation  of  that  faculty,  whom  I  represent,  or  of 
that  portion  of  the  students  of  Union  College,  who 
knew  him  while  living,  or  of  this  whole  community, 
the  character  of  Professor  Averill  was  regarded  with 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVEIULL.  7 

profound  and  unqualified  respect.  Though  few  his 
years  ;  though  at  his  death  he  had  but  just  reached  the 
period  of  manhood  ;  he  had — in  the  strength  and  con- 
sistency of  his  moral  character,  in  the  maturity  of  his 
judgment,  in  the  correctness  and  extent  of  his  intellec- 
tual views,  and  in  the  efficacy  which  all  these  united 
gave  to  his  efforts  in  the  discharge  of  his  duties — at- 
tained the  full  proportions  of  a  man. 

My  business,  therefore,  is  merely  to  trace  out  the 
origin  of  this  universal  feeling  of  respect,  and  to  state, 
however  imperfectly,  the  history  of  a  virtuous,  able, 
and  useful  man. 

Professor  Averill  was  born  in  the  town  of  Washing- 
ton, Litchfield  county,  Connecticut,  March  16th,  1804. 
During  his  infancy,  his  parents  moved  to  Salisbury,  in 
the  same  county;  in  the  character  of  those  parents, 
and  in  the  features  of  this  new  location,  we  discover 
some  of  the  causes  which  formed  his  own  amiable, 
vigorous  and  useful  character.  His  father  and  mother, 
both  belong  to  those  large  New-England  families, 
whose  members  are  scattered  over  the  face  of  our 
country,  and  whose  approach  towards  a  new  region 
is  hailed  as  the  harbinger  of  enterprise,  wealth,  and 
moral  and  religious  blessing.  This  peculiarity,  which 
exists  in  the  relations  of  this  valuable  portion  of  our 
population,  has  not,  perhaps,  been  sufficiently  noticed, 
nor  its  results  on  moral,  intellectual  and  social  charac- 
ter, rightly  valued.  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  wide 
separation  in  place  and  in  the  pursuits  of  life,  produces 


DISCOURSE   ON  THE   CHARACTER 

no  alienation  whatever  of  family  affection  or  sympathy. 
Interest  in  the  concerns  of  the  emigrant  is  still  felt,  and 
prayers  for  his  prosperity  are  still  heard  at  the  domestic 
altar;  and,  though  the  mountain  may  rise,  and  the  wave 
roll  between  the  members  of  the  household,  they  can 
erect  no  barrier  against  the  communications  of  a  bro- 
ther's or  a  sister's  love,  or  the  proffers  of  parental  aid 
and  counsel.  The  interests  and  feelings  of  one  family 
thus  become  identified  with  the  prosperity  of  every 
portion  of  our  country.  A  liberal  public  spirit  is  cre- 
ated. The  cultivation  of  the  domestic  affections  pro- 
duces its  natural  good  moral  results,  while  sympathy 
with  affairs  so  remote  and  dissimilar  expands  and  in- 
vigorates the  intellect.  And  this  expansion  of  the 
thoughts  and  feelings,  is  no  hindrance  to  the  growth 
and  exercise  of  those  virtues  so  essential  to  the  wrell- 
being  of  the  more  limited  and  less  exciting  interests  of 
home.  The  two  agencies  are  continually  interacting 
with  each  other.  The  stern  regard  for  duty,  which 
constitutes  so  important  a  feature  in  a  New-England 
education,  prevents  the  participation  in  extensive  and 
diversified  interests  from  running  into  a  reckless  and 
discontented  enthusiasm.  Hence,  among  the  classes 
to  which  I  am  alluding,  we  so  often  find  the  union  of 
domestic  and  social  virtue,  with  a  fervent  and  enlight- 
ened patriotism.  And  while  in  those  lovely  vallies  the 
eye  of  the  moral  observer  is  delighted  with  the  view 
of  little  communities,  engaged  only  in  the  faithful  but 
unobtrusive  discharge  of  humble  duties,  and  in  the  en- 
joyment of  Arcadian  bliss,  yet  when  he  asks  the  his- 
tory of  the  families  which  compose  them,  he  finds  that 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL. 

"  Minds  have  there  been  nurtur'd,  whose  control 

Is  felt  even  in  their  Nation's  destiny ; 
Men  who  swayed  senates  with  a  statesman's  soul, 

And  look'd  on  armies  with  a  leader's  eye."* 

The  early  life  of  Professor  Averill  was  blessed  with 
a  full  share  of  these  valuable  influences.  At  home,  he 
met  as  familiar  objects  the  bright  patterns  of  intelli- 
gence, piety  and  contentment,  while  an  ardent  curi- 
osity was  indulged,  and  his  sympathies  kept  in  lively 
exercise,  by  frequent  communications  with  a  numerous 
kindred,  some  of  whom  ranked  among  the  mercantile 
princes  of  the  land,  others  filled  high  offices  of  public 
trust,  and  all  were  blessing  society  by  their  enterprise, 
integrity  and  wisdom.  In  such  associations  were 
formed  that  uncompromising  respect  for  principle,  that 
thirst  for  various  and  extensive  knowledge,  and  that 
generous  and  active  benevolence,  which  showed  them- 
selves as  prominent  features  of  his  character.  A  large 
portion  of  a  very  voluminous  correspondence,  consists 
of  letters,  of  dates  extending  from  the  time  of  his  enter- 
ing college,  nearly  to  the  period  of  his  death,  from  dis- 
tant members  of  his  own  family,  in  reply  to  expressions 
of  affectionate  interest  in  the  welfare,  and  to  inquiries 
respecting  the  resources,  natural  history,  and  prospects 
of  the  new  regions  in  which  they  were  respectively 
placed. 

I  spoke  of  the  locality  in  which  he  passed  his  child- 
hood. It  is,  indeed,  a  lovely  spot.  It  is  in  the  bosom 

*Halleck. 


10  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

of  one  of  those  vallies  which  give  so  much  ornament 
and  variety  to  the  rugged  face  of  Litchfield  and  Berk- 
shire counties,  in  which  the  voice  of  God  speaks  in  its 
sweetest  tones,  and  which  exert  all  the  influence  of 
which  local  causes  are  capable,  in  producing  an  ami- 
able, and  at  the  same  time  a  vigorous  humanity.  In 
such  a  scene  was  his  imagination  nurtured,  and  his 
acute  power  of  perceiving  the  forms  of  beauty  strength- 
ened and  refined,  and  a  taste  formed,  which  in  subse- 
quent years  made  him  as  far  as  means  and  opportuni- 
ties allowed,  a  liberal  and  judicious  patron  of  the  fine 
arts. 

The  first  seventeen  years  of  his  life  were  passed  at 
home  in  agricultural  pursuits,  and  in  the  acquisition  of 
a  good  English  education.  He  was  then  removed  to 
a  classical  school,  where  his  diligence  and  success  were 
such  as  to  induce  his  father  to  comply  with  his  wish 
to  obtain  a  liberal  education,  and  to  appropriate  a  por- 
tion of  his  limited  means  towards  defraying  the  expen- 
ses of  a  collegiate  course.  He  was  accordingly  sent 
to  Stockbridge,  and  placed  under  the  care  of  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Curtis.  The  winters  of  the  years  spent  in  pre- 
paring for  college,  were  devoted  to  teaching  in  a  dis- 
trict school  of  his  state. 

That  a  young  man  of  talents  and  ambition  should 
endure  the  toil  and  confinement  of  a  common  school, 
to  obtain  money  which  cannot  elsewhere  be  procured, 
is  no  uncommon  occurrence,  nor  is  it  ordinarily  worthy 
of  much  praise.  The  occupation  is  one  of  essential 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  11 

dignity,  and  if  all  its  duties  are  faithfully  performed, 
becomes  a  most  efficient  means  of  improvement  to  him 
who  pursues  it.  But  that  a  boy  of  seventeen  years  of 
age,  of  feeble  constitution,  and  retired  habits,  should 
undertake  the  responsibilities  of  a  school  in  a  populous 
district,  where  many  of  the  pupils  were  much  older 
than  himself,  and  where  the  standard  of  instruction  is 
by  no  means  as  low  as  it  is  in  this  state,  is  itself  a  mo- 
ral effort  of  no  ordinary  magnitude.  Yet  such  an  effort 
he  did  make. at  that  early  age,  and  succeeded  where 
others  had  failed.  The  scholars  had  become  notorious 
for  being  vicious  and  untractable.  The  mode  in  which 
the  spirit  of  disorder  was  subdued,  is  worthy  of  notice, 
both  as  an  instructive  lesson  to  others,  and  as  an  in- 
stance remarkable  in  one  so  youthful  of  that  tact,  and 
knowledge  of  human  character,  for  which  he  became 
afterwards,  in  a  higher  but  in  this  respect  not  more 
difficult  sphere,  so  eminently  distinguished.  The  in- 
surgents, (for  thus  it  would  seem  they  might  with  pro- 
priety have  been  termed,)  were  separately  called  before 
him,  and  those  principles  of  their  nature,  which  operate 
with  some  degree  of  permanence,  were  distinctly  ad- 
dressed. His  appeals,  sustained  as  they  were  by  the 
intrinsic  respectability  of  his  own  character,  resulted 
in  the  immediate  and  entire  reformation  of  a  school, 
which  had  been  abundantly  disciplined  by  his  prede- 
cessors, but  who  had,  perhaps,  forgotten  that  it  was 
composed  of  moral,  intellectual  and  immortal  beings. 
Nothing  afterwards  occurred  to  disturb  the  harmony 
of  his  new  relations ;  his  conscientious  fidelity  in  the 
discharge  of  his  irksome  duties;  his  ability  as  a  teacher. 


12  DISCOURSE   ON  THE   CHARACTER 

and  his  success  when  success  had  been  previously 
deemed  unattainable,  are  to  this  day  topics  of  affec- 
tionate and  respectful  remembrance  in  the  neighbor- 
hood. 


In  the  meail  time,  his  classical  education  was  ad- 
vancing with  as  much  rapidity  as  was  consistent  with 
limited  pecuniary  means,  a  constitution  which  could 
not  well  brook  confinement,  and  very  imperfect  oppor- 
tunities of  instruction.  There  is  something  exceed- 
ingly impressive  in  the  career  of  a  young  man  who  is 
making  such  sacrifices,  and  struggling  with  such  obsta- 
cles in  the  attainment  of  the  remote,  and  when  ill- 
health  is  to  be  contended  with,  the  contingent  benefits 
of  knowledge.  It  is  widely  different  in  the  other  lib- 
eral pursuits  of  life.  The  military  and  naval  profes- 
sions, possess  in  themselves  a  degree  of  exciting  inter- 
est sufficient  to  counteract  all  temptations  to  indolence, 
and  from  the  ideas  of  danger  writh  which  they  are  na- 
turally associated,  perhaps,  or  from  whatever  cause, 
confer  upon  those  who  adopt  them  something  equiva- 
lent to  an  immediate  reward.  The  youthful  merchant, 
realizes  as  he  advances  the  profits  of  his  industry,  pru- 
dence and  enterprise.  Not  so  the  moneyless,  feeble,  so- 
litary and  despised  student.  His  way  is  noiseless,  and 
the  more  so  in  proportion  as  it  is  carefully  and  tho- 
roughly travelled.  And  a  young  man  must  have  at- 
tained a  lofty  conception  of  the  value  of  the  soul,  and 
the  importance  of  its  cultivation,  who  can  baffle  every 
obstacle  which  resists  his  progress,  and  by  keeping  his 
eye  steadily  fixed  upon  the  great  end  of  his  efforts, 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  13 

bear  up  against  the  pressure  of  poverty,  the  contempt 
of  the  proud  rich,  the  indifference  of  the  ignorant,  and 
the  heart-sickness  of  long-deferred  hope. 

It  may  be  questioned,  however,  whether  the  exist- 
ence of  such  untoward  circumstances,  is  always  to  be 
regretted.  The  mere  effort  to  encounter  difficulty,  to 
make  the  most  of  contracted  means,  and  to  supply  by 
thought  and  original  inquiry  the  want  of  ample  facili- 
ties for  learning,  may  serve  to  counteract  tendencies, 
which  are  unfavorable  to  the  production  of  an  efficient 
character.  The  most  vigorous  and  valuable  minds 
have  generally  grown  up  amid  the  frowns  of  fortune, 
the  discouragements  of  misgiving  friends,  and  every 
apparent  disadvantage. 

Before  the  firm  determination,  and  the  burning  de- 
sires of  Mr.  Averill  to  attain  to  eminence  in  know- 
ledge and  usefulness,  all  obstacles  disappeared.  His 
industry  was  continued  during  periods  in  which  he 
was  not  cheered  by  one  smile  of  encouragement,  and 
but  faint  gleams  of  hope.  If  despondency  offered  to 
chill  his  ardor,  or  pleasure  to  divert  him  from  the  path 
of  duty,  he  dashed  them  off  "like  dew-drops  from  a 
lion's  mane." 

These  observations  are  founded  upon  letters  written 
chiefly  during  his  residence  at  the  Academy,  which 
contain  frequent  allusions  to  causes  of  discouragement, 
but  still  evince  a  determination  to  combat  those  cau- 
ses, and,  as  far  as  health  and  talents  would  allow,  to 


14  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

persist  in  his  exertions.  The  motives  which  he  avows 
are  always  respectable — to  advance  the  honor  of  his 
family — to  relieve  them  from  the  burden  of  his  support 
— to  become  a  blessing  to  his  country — and  lastly,  but 
always  as  subordinate  to  the  others,  to  indulge  his  own 
taste  in  the  pursuit  and  enjoyment  of  literature  and 
science.  The  substance  of  the  arguments  and  motives 
which  at  that  time  sustained  himself,  are  well  expressed 
in  a  letter,  addressed  a  few  years  after  to  a  friend*  who 
had  informed  him  that  he  was  sinking  under  the  indif- 
ference of  the  world — a  friend  who  is  now  rapidly  ad- 
vancing to  eminence  in  a  scientific  profession,  and 
attributes  his  success,  in  a  great  measure,  to  the  friend- 
ship and  counsel  of  Averill.  It  is  dated  at  a  period 
wThen  his  own  prospects  were  by  no  means  bright — 
when,  indeed,  more  than  at  any  former  period,  he  felt 
the  force  of  Johnson's  celebrated  saying, 

"  Slow  rises  worth  by  poverty  depress'd." 

After  explaining  his  own  embarrassments,  which, 
however,  he  views  with  a  very  philosophic  eye,  he  re- 
marks— "I  am  wholly  disinclined  to  derive  consola- 
tion from  your  adversity.  I  will  confess,  that  there 
are  some  passages  in  your  late  history,  which,  unless 
carefully  and  rightly  considered,  may  tend  to  render 
such  men  as  you  and  me  discontented  with  life.  In 
them  I  see  a  young  man  of  excellent  natural  endow- 
ments, following  the  inducements  of  his  taste  against 
many  considerable  impediments  in  selecting  his  pro- 
fession— storing  his  mind  with  more  than  ordinary 

*  Caleb  Ticknor,  M.  D.  of  New- York. 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  15 

professional  knowledge — entering  upon  the  practice 
of  his  profession  with  a  high  ambition  to  raise  it,  and 
with  a  zealous  desire  to  be  useful,  at  the  same  time  that 
he  hopes  to  acquire  a  respectable  subsistence,  but  lack- 
ing the  support  and  patronage  of  that  public  which  he 
is  so  well  qualified,  and  which  he  so  much  desires,  to 
benefit.  Whether  this  and  similar  facts  result  from 
the  triumph  of  empiricism  over  the  gullibility  of  men, 
or  from  there  being  a  greater  number  of  accomplished 
physicians  than  the  exigencies  of  the  community  re- 
quire, is  a  question,  the  true  answer  to  which  might 
not  be  very  complimentary  to  the  wisdom  of  mankind. 
But,  my  dear  friend,  there  is  a  danger  attendant  upon 
men  in  our  circumstances,  which  we  should  most  stren- 
uously guard  against.  We  must  take  care  lest,  while 
languishing  under  the  want  of  public  patronage,  we 
should  cease  to  strive  to  merit  it.  I  know  it  is  difficult 
to  labor  with  alacrity  in  getting  up  wares  which  the 
public  will  not  purchase,  or  greatly  undervalue.  Still, 
this  same  public  is  more  weak  than  criminal  in  the 
course  which  it  pursues.  We  are  all  creatures  of  self- 
interest,  and  we  are  all  more  or  less  liable  to  decep- 
tion in  regard  to  our  true,  our  highest  interest.  We 
are  often  blinded  by  credulity,  and  are  slow  in  learn- 
ing even  the  lessons  of  experience.  Unfounded  but 
noisy  pretension,  may  often  rise  over  real  merit,  and 
mankind  may  be  tardy  in  turning  from  empiricism  to 
real  worth.  But  yet  they  at  length  do  thus  turn,  and 
we  seldom  see  a  man,  who  deserves  promotion,  who 
does  not  ultimately  receive  it.  Such  a  man  may  have 
to  undergo  a  long  and  trying  course  before  he  meets 


16  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

success.  He  may  have  to  suffer  the  injury  of  his  feel- 
ings, of  his  ambition  and  his  pride.  But  still  I  would 
say  to  him, — go  onward — macte  virtute — and  you  shall 
surely  triumph." 

The  gentleman  to  whom  this  letter  was  written,  and 
who  seems  to  value  his  uncommon  talents  and  acquire- 
ments only  because  they  may  enhance  the  physical 
and  moral  happiness  of  his  fellow-men,  formed  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Mr.  Averill  while  he  was  a  student  in 
the  academy  at  Stockbridge.  The  acquaintance  soon 
ripened  into  a  friendship,  such  as  Cicero  would  ap- 
prove. From  this  friend  I  have  received  the  following 
notice  of  his  character  and  reputation,  while  residing 
at  that  most  beautiful  of  New-England  villages,  and 
"  now  rendered  classic  by  its  family  of  accomplished 
authors."  "  During  his  stay  at  Stockbridge,  Averill 
recited  alone,  so  that  he  had  no  competitor,  no  rival 
with  whom  to  measure  his  powers ;  and  it  is  very  evi- 
dent to  me  that  he  was  not  sensible  of  his  own  mental 
capacities  until  after  he  had  been  some  time  a  member 
of  college.  He  never  failed,  unless  on  account  of  ill- 
health,  to  be  punctually  and  perfectly  prepared  for  re- 
citation. With  whatever  subject  he  grappled,  he  was 
sure  to  master  it.  He  was  at  that  time  storing  his 
mind  with  facts  of  every  description,  and  they  were 
accurately  retained  by  his  tenacious  memory.  On  all 
subjects  which  were  presented  he  thought  for  himself, 
and  his  mind  even  at  that  period  was  distinguished  for 
the  boldness  and  originality  of  its  inquiries.  No  one 
of  our  fellow-students  was  so  generally  beloved  as 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  17 

Averill.  And  he  as  far  excelled  others  in  athletic  sports 
and  bodily  exercises,  as  he  did  then  and  subsequently 
in  the  powers  of  his  mind.  During  the  spring  of  1824, 
his  health  became  seriously  affected.  A  cough,  pain 
in  the  chest,  and  other  symptoms  indicating  a  pulmo- 
nary complaint,  for  a  time  alarmed  his  friends,  and 
threatened  to  interrupt  his  studies.  It  is  probable  that 
this  was  the  first  manifestation  of  that  disease  which 
aided  in  destroying  the  life  of  one  so  dear  to  all  who 
knew  him — so  useful  in  the  sphere  in  which  he  moved, 
and  now  so  much  lamented  by  all  who  feel  the  value 
of  virtue,  talents  and  learning,  as  connected  with  the 
interests  of  our  country  and  our  race." 

While  at  the  Academy  he  commenced  the  practice 
of  preserving  and  arranging  systematically  all  his  pa- 
pers, whether  letters,  original  compositions,  or  accounts 
— a  practice  rigidly  adhered  to  during  the  remainder 
of  his  life.  Of  the  compositions  dated  at  this  period, 
some  possess  uncommon  merit,  and  are  peculiarly  in- 
teresting as  illustrating  the  early  development  of  the 
characteristic  qualities  of  his  intellectual  habits,  and 
the  purity  of  his  moral  feelings  and  opinions. 

The  following  observations,  on  the  necessity  of  good 
morals  to  the  perpetuity  of  literature,  were  written 
when  he  was  about  eighteen,  and  contain  the  opinions 
which  he  afterwards  held  and  taught  relative  to  the 
substantial  merit  and  permanent  popularity  of  authors : 

3 


18  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

"Among  the  Deities  which  the  passions  of  men  create,  there  is  none 
whose  favor  is  courted  with  such  entire  devotion,  and  is  sought  to  he  pro- 
pitiated with  such  great  sacrifices,  as  is  that  of  Fame.  And  her  influence 
is  as  universal  as  it  is  great.  Her  devotees  are  found  among  all  classes 
of  society,  arid  in  every  grade  of  human  character. 

"  Among  the  numerous  avenues  which  lead  to  her  temple,  none  is 
more  thronged  than  that  which  passes  through  literature.  Indeed,  there 
has  been,  and  continues  to  be,  so  great  a  rush  of  authors  towards  her 
gates,  bearing  thither  the  dearly  begotten  of  their  brains,  and  imploring 
her  to  preserve  them  in  her  temple,  and  cause  them  to  be  known  and 
admired  by  posterity,  that,  if  she  should  yield  to  all  their  earnest  and 
plaintive  solicitations,  her  abode  would  soon  overflow,  were  it  co-  exten- 
sive with  the  universe.  But  this  she  surely  will  not  do.  For  the  same 
desire  of  literary  distinction  has  long  existed  whicli  now  so  powerfully 
agitates  the  breasts  of  men.  Innumerable  volumes  have  long  since  been 
thrown  upon  the  current  of  time ;  and  yet  how  few  of  them  have  been 
borne  down  to  us.  The  same  doom  awaits  the  literature  of  our  age 
which  has  befallen  that  of  every  other.  Of  all  those  who  have  written 
during  the  present  century,  how  very  few  can  have  the  smallest  chance 
of  immortality  ?  Who  of  them  can  reasonably  expect  to  be  placed  among 
the  literary  constellations,  and  be  ranked  with  those  brighter  stars  whicli 
have  for  ages  shone  with  undiminished  lustre  ? 

"Thus  prevalent  being  this  passion  for  literary  fame,  and  the  number 
of  those  who  strive  to  attain  it,  and  succeed,  being  so  few,  the  interesting 
inquiry  suggests  itself — from  what  causes  do  all  these  failures  result  ? 
Can  they  be  ascribed  to  caprice,  or  to  an  unwillingness  to  reward,  or  to 
a  want  of  power  in  the  public  to  appreciate  merit  ?  No.  For  although 
the  public  may,  for  a  while,  play  the  part  of  a  blind  and  capricious  judge, 
yet  the  justice  of  its  final  decisions  is  indisputable,  and  from  them  there 
is  no  appeal.  Nor  can  we  ascribe  them  wholly  to  barrenness  of  genius. 
For  genius  is  not  that  rara  avis  appearing  only  at  great  intervals  of  time 
and  space,  which  it  has  sometimes  been  supposed  to  be.  It  is  not 

A  boon  from  partial  heaven  to  few  most  lov'd 
Of  her — withholtlen  from  the  rest. 

Indeed,  most  of  what  is  termed  genius  in  those  who  have  drawn  long 
and  largely  upon  the  admiration  of  the  world,  is  but  the  perfection  of  it 
— is  not  so  much  a  natural  endowment  as  a  power  and  grace  acquired 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.   .  19 

by  an  extraordinary  exercise  and  cultivation  of  the  native  faculties  of  the 
mind. 

*'  Nor  can  genius  alone,  however  brilliant,  secure  to  an  author  a  per- 
petuity of  fame.  It  is  truly  indispensable,  but  without  a  strong,  an  ac- 
tive and  an  elevated  moral  principle  to  give  it  direction,  impulse  and 
vigor,  its  offspring  must  prove  as  transitory  as  itself  is  splendid  and  dazz- 
ling. And  whatever  causes  the  injured  self-love  of  disappointed  expec- 
tants of  public  favor  may  prompt  them  to  assign  for  their  want  of  success, 
the  true  cause  may  generally  be  found  in  a  weakness  or  paralysis  of  their 
moral  nature.  It  is  this  which  makes  our  writers  prone  to  earth,  and 
chains  their  spirits  down.  It  is  this  which  imparts  to  the  productions  of 
genius  the  seeds  of  dissolution  and  quick  decay.  How  many  fine  gen- 
iuses have  been  sullied  by  the  taint  of  avarice,  which  has  given  them  an 
eye  to  the  coffers  of  the  bookseller,  rather  tlran  to  the  esteem  of  the  wise 
and  good  of  succeeding  ages!  How  many  have  become  crazed  with  af- 
fectation, who  spurn  common  sense  as  a  quality  quite  too  old-fashioned 
and  rustic,  and  disregarding  the  rich  colouring  and  expression  of  nature, 
strain  to  dress  up  their  conceptions  in  all  the  gaudy  and  meretricious 
trimmings  suggested  by  their  own  corrupt  taste !  How  many  have  been 
enslaved  by  vanity — which  is  not  solicitous  to  merit,  but  only  to  receive 
applause — which  hesitates  not  to  sacrifice  every  thing  truly  excellent 
and  attractive  on  the  shrine  of  the  false  taste  of  a  particular  time  or  coun- 
try— which  can  stoop  to  flatter  the  most  miserable  foibles,  and  which  be- 
comes the  willing  and  faithful  pander  of  vice !  How  many  have  felt  the 
enervating  influence  of  luxury,  or  have  steeped  their  senses  so  deeply 
in  indolence  as  to  have  become  incapable  of  any  grand  or  long  continued 
mental  effort  1 

"Can  men  of  souls  like  these,  long  receive  the  grateful  tribute  of  pub- 
lic love  and  admiration?  Let  an  observation  of  facts  and  the  experience 
of  ages  give  the  answer.  No :  he  who  writes  for  immortality  must  have 
another  sort  of  being.  He  must  be  actuated  by  higher  and  purer  mo- 
tives—must possess  a  soul  conscious  of  its  own  power  and  dignity,  and  an 
elevation  of  moral  principle  which  will  buoy  him  far  above  the  caprices, 
the  follies  and  vices  of  any  age.  He  must  propose  to  himself  that  high 
course  of  thought,  which  to  others  'seems  difficult  and  steep  to  scale 
with  upright  wing ;'  but  which  leads  to  '  high  discovery  that  new-cre- 
cites  the  earth ;'  and  lie  must  pursue  that  course  with  a  steadiness  of  pur- 
pose which  air  the  alluring  calls  of  pleasure  can  not  cause  to  warm,  and 
with  an  ardor  of  enthusiasm  that  the  chilling  influences  of  poverty  and 


20  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

present  obscurity  cannot  cool.  He  must  be  uninfluenced  alike  by  the 
folly  of  thoughtlessness — the  misapprehension  of  ignorance — the  malice 
of  envy — and  the  ingratitude  of  all  men.  Instead  of  contemplating  the 
insignificance  of  those  around  him  which  would  enervate,  or  their  vices 
which  would  contaminate  his  mind,  he  must  be  content  to  closet  himself 
with  his  own  high  thoughts — must  find  his  pleasure  in  studying  and  in 
endeavoring  to  assimilate  himself  to 

'  Those  starry  lights  of  Virtue,  that  diffuse 
Through  the  dark  depths  of  Time  their  vivid  flame.' 

"He  who  can  do  all  this,  may  leave  to  posterity  a  monument  of  intel- 
lectual power  and  achievment  which  will  be  preserved  and  advanced 
through  all  time.  The  conditions  are  indeed  rigorous  and  appalling  to 
ordinary  minds;  but  he  who  cannot  resolve  upon  such  elevation  of  pur- 
pose, and  cherish  such  ardor  of  pursuit-— who  cannot 

'  learn  to  dissipate  the  band 
Of  those  huge,  threat'ning  difficulties  dire, 
That  in  the  weak  man's  way  like  lions  stand, 
His  soul  appal,  and  damp  his  rising  fire,' 

cannot  reasonably  expect  to  obtain  possession  of  a  niche  in  the  long-en- 
during temple  of  Fame.  That  he  cannot,  may  be  believed,  when  we 
reflect  that  every  succeeding  age  gives  birth  to  many  ambitious  of  liter- 
ary distinction — who,  although  they  combine  too  many  of  the  dissipa- 
tions of  pleasure  with  the  invigorating  influence  of  severe  study,  to  pro- 
duce any  thing  lasting,  yet  attain  to  sufficient  excellence  and  exhibit 
fashionable  attractions  enough  to  obscure  every  work  of  a  preceding  age, 
which  is  not  far  more  sublime  in  its  conception  and  imposing  by  its  truth. 
And  our  belief  will  be  confirmed  when  we  examine  the  private  history 
of  those  master  spirits,  whose  works  have  come  down  to  us  from  remote 
antiquity.  Such  an  examination  will  in  every  case  present  the  specta- 
cle of  zealous  and  entire  devotion  to  the  cause  of  literature— of  ceaseless 
and  unwearied  exertion — of  firm  resistance  to  temptation— of  patient 
endurance  of  the  most  grievous  privations — all  resulting  in  such  a  per- 
fection of  the  whole  moral  and  intellectual  being,  that  whatever  proceeds 
from  it  must  be  perfect  likewise.  Had  they 

'  minded  nought 

But  in  loose  joy  their  time  to  wear  away, 
Great  Homer's  song  had  never  fir'd  the  breast 
To  think  of  glory  and  heroic  deeds ; 
Sweet  Maro's  muse  sunk  in  inglorious  rest, 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  21 

Had  silent  slept  amid  the  Mincian  reeds ; 

Our  Milton's  Eden  had  lain  wrapt  in  weeds ; 

Our  Shakspeare  stroll'd  and  kiugh'd  with  Warwick's  swains ; 

Nor  had  our  master  Spencer  charm'd  his  Mulla's  plains.'  " 

These  observations  are  introduced  here,  not  so  much 
for  any  remarkable  elegance  of  composition,  as  to  il- 
lustrate the  manliness  and  justness  of  his  views  with 
respect  to  the  essential  qualifications  of  the  man  of  let- 
ters. The  extracts  which  follow  are  of  about  the  same 
date,  and  will  perhaps  be  regarded  as  uncommon  in- 
stances of  precocity,  both  as  to  expression  and  senti- 
ment : 

**  There  are  many  observations  which  are  frequently  in  the  mouths  of 
men,  and  exert  a  great  influence  on  their  conduct,  which,  however,  have 
not  been  duly  examined ;  and  if  blindly  adopted  as  rules  of  life,  may  be- 
come very  pernicious  to  human  happiness.  Some  are  in  close  accord- 
ance with  our  passions  and  predilections,  as  they  afford  excuses  for  the 
gratification  of  our  ambition,  love  of  ease  and  luxury,  while  others  are 
calculated  to  discourage  literary  effort,  and  paralize  the  operations  of 
genius.  Against  the  bad  effects  resulting  from  these  the  student,  cannot 
be  too  much  cautioned,  since  most  of  them  appeal  strongly  to  natural 
weaknesses,  and  many  come  well  recommended  by  probability.  Among 
the  class  of  common  remarks  to  which  I  am  alluding,  none  are  more 
dangerous  than  those  which  indulge  the  natural  indolence  of  young  men, 
and  excuse  insignificance  by  representing  success  as  unattainable  in  lit- 
erature. 

"  How  often  are  we  told  that  there  is  nothing  new,  and  at  the  same 
time  valuable,  to  be  found  in  the  literary  world ;  that  the  master-spirits 
which  have  preceded  us  have  traversed  every  field  of  fancy — have  ex- 
hausted every  subject  of  profound  speculation — and  possessed  themselves 
of  every  thing  original,  ingenious,  beautiful,  or  sublime ;  that  no  writer 
of  the  present  age,  although  he  may  aim  at,  and  suppose  that  he  attains 
to,  entire  originality,  is  free  from  the  danger  of  being  convicted  of  plagi- 
arism, by  the  sudden  and  unexpected  republication  of  the  works  of  some 
ancient  author;  and  that  the  most  vigorous  and  successful  efforts  of  mod- 
ern genius  have  been  able  to  produce  nothing  better  than  fantastic  patch- 


DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

work  upon  the  literature  of  the  ancients.  All  this  has  been  said,  and  if 
it  were  wholly  true,  or  generally  believed,  there  could  be  but  small  in- 
ducement to  effort,  for  a  student  of  the  present  age.  But  these  assertions 
have  been  made  by  those  who  either  have  an  undue  admiration  for  the 
works  of  the  ancients,  or  too  low  an  estimation  of  modern  genius,  or  a 
wrong  conception  of  the  economy  of  Nature. 

tl  True— one  cannot  contemplate  the  sublime  conceptions — the  just  de- 
lineations of  human  character — the  beautiful  descriptions  of  nature,  and 
the  faultless  and  felicitous  modes  of  expression  which  appear  in  our  col- 
lections of  Greek  and  Roman  literature,  without  venerating  the  memory 
of  their  authors.  And  one  who  proposes  nothing  but  servile  imitation, 
has  little  chance  of  succeeding.  But  it  does  not  necessarily  follow,  that 
all  power  of  originality  is  exhausted.  Although  the  great  outlines  of  na- 
ture and  human  character  remain  ever  the  same,  yet  what  genius  ever 
has — what  genius  ever  will — comprehend  and  portray  all  the  wonders 
and  endlessly  varying  beauties  of  the  one,  or  delineate  all  the  nice,  yet 
interesting  peculiarities  of  the  other.  And  although  all  beauties,  both 
moral  and  natural,  may  have  been  separately  apprehended,  yet  we  must 
consider  that  they  admit  of  an  infinite  diversity  of  combinations,  all  of 
which  may  be  excellent,  and  possess  the  merit  of  originality.  Indeed, 
when  we  consider  the  vast  variety  of  ideas  which  now  exist  in  the  minds 
of  rnen,  and  the  different  powers  of  their  imaginations  in  apprehending 
and  combining  the  same,  we  are  induced  to  believe  that  the  productions 
of  real  genius  would  always  bear  the  charm  of  novelty,  though  no  new 
discovery  should  be  made.  But  it  is  undoubtedly  true,  that  '  there  are 
more  things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  have  ever  been  dreamed  of  by 
philosophy,'  and  that  new  truths  will  always  be  developing.  And  it  is 
disrespectful,  not  to  say  impious,  to  assert  or  believe  that  the  God  of 
Nature  has  exerted  so  little  wisdom,  and  made  so  small  a  display  of 
greatness  in  framing  the  universe,  that  man  can  ever  find  an  end  to  his 
inquiries,  or  that  his  knowledge  will  ever  become  so  great  that  his  admir- 
ation shall  cease.  Nor  would  the  All-wise  have  endowed  man  with  such 
surprising  powers  of  mind — an  emanation  from  His  own  Divine  Spirit 
— were  it  possible  for  him  to  detect  shallowness  in  His  designs,  or  weak- 
ness in  their  execution.  But  conscious  of  His  own  perfections,"  He  has 
bestowed  upon  him  those  God-like  attributes,  and  with  them  has  afforded 
inexhaustible  subjects  for  his  contemplation  and  endless  scope  for  his 
invention ;  so  that  as  he  ascends  from  grade  to  grade  in  knowledge,  he 
finds  greater  and  greater  cause  for  admiration,  and  even  a  still  higher 
disposition  to  adore." 


OF  PROFESSOR   AVERILL.  23 

In  the  remainder  of  this  essay,  he  illustrates  his 
doctrine  by  a  statement  of  the  outline  of  the  history  of 
science.  The  passage  may  be  too  long  for  insertion 
here.  It  presents,  however,  sufficient  evidence  of  the 
good  use  he  was  making  of  his  time  and  talents.  The 
great  eras  are  all  distinctly  marked.  The  intellectual 
character  of  Aristotle,  of  the  Schoolmen,  of  Roger  Ba- 
con, of  Rocelinus,  and  Abelard,  and,  above  all,  of  Lord 
Bacon,  are,  when  we  consider  the  youth  and  defective 
opportunities  of  the  writer,  drawn  with  remarkable 
justness  and  sagacity.  This  portion  of  the  essay  is, 
indeed,  a  very  respectable  histoire  raisonie  of  the  hu- 
man mind  from  Aristotle  down  to  our  own  time.  For 
the  great  individual  characters  are  not  only  accurately 
estimated  and  described,  but  the  transitions  from  one 
age  to  another,  are  kept  constantly  in  view  by  the 
young  philosopher. 

The  piece  concludes  with  the  following  glowing 
paragraph : 

*'  It  is  gratifying  upon  a  review  of  the  improvements  which  have  been 
made  from  time  to  time,  to  imagine  and  contemplate  that  perfection  to 
which  human  knowledge  must  hereafter  be  carried — what  new  orders  of 
being  may  be  discovered,  and  what  new  and  wonderful  properties  may 
be  developed  in  those  which  are  now  but  imperfectly  known?  How  dif- 
ferently will  creation  appear  to  the  future  philosopher  from  what  it  does 
to  us !  Finally,  instead  of  languishing  under  the  idea  that  there  is  noth- 
ing left  for  us  to  do,  and  that  all  ground  for  literary  distinction  has  been 
pre-occupied,  how  many  and  what  powerful  inducements  have  we  to 
the  most  vigorous  and  persevering  exertion.  Are  our  actions  influenced 
by  motives  of  pride  ?  We  live  in  an  age  when  ignorance  is  most  dis- 
graceful, and  when  highly  cultivated  and  well-directed  genius  receives 
distinguished  honor.  Is  ambition  in  affairs  of  state  our  ruling  principle? 


24  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

We  live  under  a  form  of  government  where  merit  is  supposed  to  be  the 
only  ground  of  preferment,  and  where  the  highest  offices  are  equally 
open  to  all.  Are  we  instigated  by  a  zeal  for  the  interests  of  religion  ? 
When  was  there  ever  an  age  that  presented  so  extensive  a  sphere  of  use- 
fulness and  Christian  exertion,  as  the  present  ?  Have  we  any  regard  for 
the  claims  of  kindred  ?  What  can  they  so  reasonably  expect,  as  that  we 
should  profit  to  the  utmost  by  the  advantages  which  they  have  afforded 
us,  or  what  can  give  them  greater  pleasure  than  to  see  their  sons  become 
honorably  distinguished?" 

Mr.  AveriU's  power  of  analysis  was  very  uncommon. 
The  following  sketch  of  an  argument  drawn  in  prepar- 
ation for  discussion  in  a  debating  society,  was  made 
during  his  academic  course.  It  will  be  observed,  that 
it  is  merely  the  outline  of  his  argument,  for  the  filling 
up  of  which  he  confided  to  his  readiness  in  extempo- 
raneous speaking : 

" Has  the  honor,  which  is  reflected  upon  the  son  by  the  virtues  and  dig- 
nity of  the  father,  a  beneficial  effect  upon  society? 

"It  may  be  of  some  importance  to  remark,  that  when  we  speak  of 
'honor  being  reflected'  upon  the  son  by  the  virtues  &c.  of  the  father,  we 
do  not  mean  that  honor  which  has  sometimes  been  extorted  from  com- 
munities, and  guaranteed  to  the  sons  of  illustrious  progenitors  by  a  posi- 
tive law,  but  that  which  is  paid  as  a  voluntary  tribute  from  men  in  all 
countries,  and  under  every  system  of  government.  So  that  all  argu- 
ments drawn  from  standing  aristocracies  which  have  been  instituted  by 
men  in  power,  and  maintained  by  them  without  the  voluntary  concur- 
rence of  the  rest  of  community  are  inapplicable  to  the  present  subject  of 
debate. 

"In  compliance  with  Cicero's  rule,  that  'omnis,  quse  a  ratione  sus- 
cipitur  de  aliqua  re,  institutio,  debet  a  definitione  proficisci,'  I  shall  un- 
dertake to  show  what  that  honor  is  which  is  reflected  upon  the  son  by 
the  virtues  and  dignity  of  the  father;  or,  (to  put  the  question  in  a  more 
intelligible  form,)  what  is  the  respect  paid  by  mankind  to  a  person  in 
consequence  of  his  being  the  son  of  a  virtuous  and  dignified  father.  I 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  25 

would  define  it  to  be  that  excess  of  respect  paid  to  the  son  of  such  a  father, 
over  that  paid  to  the  son  (possessing  natural  abilities  equal  to  those  of 
the  other,)  of  an  ignoble  father,  or  rather  of  a  father  who  merits  no  res- 
pect at  all.  For  if  this  excess  of  respect  be  not  reflected  from,  or  in  con- 
sequence of  the  virtues  and  dignity  of  the  father,  of  what  is  it  the  con- 
sequence? 

"  Proceeding  upon  this  definition,  I  shall  show  that  this  respect  vol- 
untarily awarded,  has  a  beneficial  effect  upon  community;  and  this, 
first,  upon  the  ground  of  rewarding  personal  merit.  The  personal  merit 
of  the  sons  of  virtuous  and  illustrious  men,  after  they  have  become  old 
enough  to  participate  in  the  direction  of  the  affairs  of  society,  is  likely  to 
be  far  superior  to  that  of  the  sons  of  obscure  or  vicious  men,  at  the  same 
period  of  life.  For  those  must  possess  advantages  of  education,  and  a 
beneficial  social  intercourse  far  superior  to  what  these  can  have.  And 
while  the  former  are  continually  receiving  precepts  of  virtue  from,  and 
beholding  models  of  excellence  in  the  persons  of  their  fathers,  and  in 
the  circles  in  which  their  fathers  move — the  latter  generally  grow  up  in 
ignorance,  and  instead  of  having  precepts  of  virtue  instilled  into  their 
minds,  never  perceive  her  beauty  nor  learn  her  worth ;  and  of  necessity 
associate  with  characters,  the  contemplation  of  whom  is  very  unlikely  to 
excite  a  spirited  and  noble  zeal  for  the  attainment  of  excellence. 

"  Besides,  as  the  sons  of  illustrious  parents  will  probably  have  more 
personal  merit,  or,  at  least,  a  stronger  disposition  to  do  good,  so  will  they 
undoubtedly  possess  a  greater  power. 

"  First,  because  their  acquaintances  are  far  more  numerous,  and 

"Secondly,  because  they  generally  have  wealth,  a  necessary  and  all- 
powerful  agent  in  works  of  improvement  or  deeds  of  philanthropy. 

"Now  it  is  acknowledged  that  public  favor  is  the  great  incentive  to 
human  action.  The  bare  consciousness  of  doing  good  does  not  rise  high 
enough  in  the  scale  of  motives,  often  to  prompt  those  whom  we  call  most 
virtuous  to  action.  It  should — but  human  nature  is  far  from  being  so 
perfect  that  it  does.  Favor  and  fame  are  the  "  sweetest  frankincense 
to  human  thought."  And  if  they  wish  to  be  benefitted  by  the  actions  of 
others,  they  must  evince  gratitude,  and  show  favor  to  those  by  whom 
benefits  are  conferred. 

4 


-26  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER, 

"We  will  now  attach  another  meaning  to  the  'honor'  in  question, 
and  endeavor  to  prove  that  in  this  sense,  also,  it  is  beneficial  to  commu- 
nity. When  men  perceive  one  individual  closely  related  to  another  of 
great  and  acknowledged  worth,  there  is  a  tendency  to  presume  that  the 
former  possesses  the  qualities  which  are  known  to  belong  to  the  latter. 
This  honor  bestowed  upon  supposed  merit,  is  what  I  here  term  reflected 
honor. 

"  To  prove  that  this  honor  is  useful,  I  suggest  the  following  consider- 
ations : 

"First,  the  tendency  which  I  have  noticed  is  natural  and  universal; 
and  we  are  not  at  liberty  to  suppose  that  it  would  have  been  im- 
planted by  the  author  of  our  nature,  so  deeply  in^the  breast  of  every 
man,  if  it  is  productive  of  more  evil  than  good. 

"Secondly,  the  consideration,  that  not  only  one's  self  will  be  honored 
by  great  and  generous  actions,  but  one's  children  also,  presents  the 
strongest  inducement  to  virtuous  actions. 

Thirdly,  this  tendency  serves  to  keep  up,  or  rather  to  elevate  the  stan- 
dard of  excellence ;  for  if  a  man  see  that  he  cannot  be  honored  for 
possessing  merit  equal  to  that  of  another,  for  which  that  other  is  ho- 
nored, the  former  will  strive  to  show  a  superior  degree  of  merit  to 
that  of  the  latter,  and  thus  receive  the  honor  which  was  before 
awarded  to  that  latter. 

"  Lastly,  this  reflected  honor  is  the  foundation  of  society.  It  is  the 
basis  of  all  order  every  where." 

I  cannot  forbear  inserting  the  following  piece,  writ- 
ten probably  before  he  was  eighteen.  I  say  probably, 
for  although  it  is  preserved  among  his  compositions  of 
that  year,  yet  the  delicacy  of  its  humor,  the  consis- 
tency and  completeness  of  the  portrait,  and  more  than 
all,  perhaps,  the  absence  from  its  style  of  any  gross 
puerilities,  induce  me  to  believe  it  possible  that  it  may 
have  been  the  production  of  a  later  period : 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVER1LL.  27 

"  Mrs.  Dolly  Dobson  was  the  daughter  of  an  old  farmer  who  was  re- 
markable for  the  singularity  of  his  wit,  the  scruhbiness  of  his  person,  and 
a  very  much  twisted  and  grotesque  phiz.  Some  compared  his  face  to 
the  mould-board  of  a  plough,  while  others  likened  it  to  an  irregular  side- 
hill,  which  had  been  rendered  sterile  and  much  rutted  by  heavy  rains. 
His  nose,  while  it  formed  a  prominent  feature  in  the  economy  "of  his 
face,  told  plainly  of  originality  in  the  mind  of  its  owner,  and  an  utter 
disregard,  if  not  contempt,  for  vulgar  opinion.  Dolly  inherited  her  fath- 
er's beauty  and  a  due  portion  of  his  shrewdness.  She  was  early  initiated 
into  a  knowledge  and  practice  of  those  laborious  duties  which  devolve 
upon  the  daughters  of  those  good  old  unsophisticated  farmers,  who  have 
escaped  the  contamination  of  modern  luxury,  and  who  look  with  greater 
complacency  upon  the  female  hand  which  can  dexterously  milk  a  cow, 
than  upon  one  which  can  adorn  a  piano ;  and  who  regard  with  greater 
admiration  the  girl  who  can  show  a  fine  tray  of  butter  of  her  own  churn- 
ing, or  a  piece  of  cloth  of  her  own  weaving,  than  the  one  who  can  exhi- 
bit a  fine  specimen  of  painting  or  embroidery.  And  as  she  grew  up,  so 
expert  did  she  become  in  the  several  arts  of  spinning,  knitting,  weaving 
and  so  forth,  that  not  one  of  her  acquaintance  could  show  more  or  better 
products  of  industry  and  skill  than  she.  Yet  this  superiority  was  not  at- 
tended by  one  shade  of  arrogance ;  and  the  peculiarity  of  her  personal 
appearance,  together  with  her  good  humored  wit,  took  every  disposition 
to  envy  away  from  her  inferiors.  So  much  so,  that  if  there  was  to  be  a 
spinning-bee,  the  attendance  of  Dolly  was  thought  necessary,  and  she 
was  sure  to  have  an  invite  (as  they  termed  it,)  though  she  was  always 
the  first  to  get  ofF  her  skein,  and  her  yarn  was  ever  most  excellent  for  its 
strength  and  evenness.  Her  thoughts  were  so  differently  conceived  from 
those  of  other  persons,  and  so  curiously  expressed,  that  she  was  the  life 
of  her  company — continually  surprising  them  by  some  unexpected,  yet 
irresistible  stroke  of  the  comic  or  sagacious.  But  in  all  her  eccentricity, 
there  was  not  to  be  seen  one  particle  of  affectation.  So  far  from  study- 
ing wit,  she  often  seemed  wholly  unconscious  of  it,  and  least  of  all  did 
she  expect  praise  therefor.  Dolly  enjoyed  a  happy  temperament.  She 
was  as  far  from  envying  personal  beauty  in  others,  as  she  was  from  re- 
ceiving pain  from  a  consideration  of  her  own  deformity.  She  always 
looked  on  the  bright  side  of  the  picture,  and  lessened  the  effect  of  evils 
experienced,  by  reflecting  upon  greater  ones  avoided.  She  lived  with 
singular  equanimity,  and  her  whole  life  was  a  scene  of  almost  uninter- 
rupted content.  And  if  she  ever  felt  greater  happiness  at  one  time  than 
at  another,  it  was  when  she  had  performed  some  extraordinary  act  of 
kindness. 


28  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

**  She  was  by  no  means  the  spoilt  child  of  flattery  or  romance.  And 
hence,  probably,  was  that  unexceptionable  propriety  of  appearance  and 
action,  which  she  always  maintained  in  the  presence  of  those  of  the  other 
sex.  She  never  courted  their  attention,  nor  practiced  those  many  little 
arts  with  which  our  fashionable  belles  strive  to  make  conquests  over  the 
hearts  of  their  beaux.  The  languishing  air — the  amorous  look — the 
tremulous  blush — the  long-drawn  sigh — the  pretty  mistake,  were  not 
seen  in  Dolly.  And  yet  she  was  no  prude.  For  she  never  avoided  a 
person  because  he  was  a  man,  and  in  his  presence  she  was  the  same 
frank,  shrewd,  unsuspecting,  and  unaffected  Dolly  that  Nature  had  formed 
her.  If,  on  the  evening  after  the  spinning-bee,  it  came  her  turn,  or  she 
was  adjudged  to  be  kissed,  she  submitted  without  frowardness  on  the  one 
hand,  or  feigned  resistance  on  the  other. 

**  With  all  these  good  qualities,  it  is  strange  that  she  was  not  contended 
for  as  an  invaluable  prize.  Surely  Cupid  must  be  worse  than  blind,  not 
to  perceive  and  appreciate  merit  such  as  was  hers.  But  it  was  Dolly's 
fate  to  behold  her  acquaintances,  one  after  another,  leave  her  for  the  Ely- 
sian  fields  of  matrimony,  while  she  remained  unsolicited.  And  yet  this 
— although  it  would  have  spoiled  the  eyes,  and  brought  withering  des- 
pondency upon  the  spirits  of  many  females  of  greater  beauty — did  not 
appear  to  render  her  at  all  unhappy.  For  in  her  more  sportive  moments 
she  would  tell  of  chaff  flying  before  the  wheat — that  it  is  not  all  gold  that 
glitters,  &c. ;  and  when  more  serious,  she  would  speak  upon  the  com- 
parative opportunities  of  the  wife  and  the  unmarried  lady  for  being 
useful.  Indeed,  she  seemed  to  take  an  entirely  cool  and  rational  view 
of  the  married  state,  and  supposed  that  nature  would  wear  its  ordinary 
appearance — that  the  same  mixture  or  succession  of  sunshine  and  clouds, 
would  prevail  in  it  as  in  a  course  of  single  life.  Several  years  had  glided 
by  without  changing  her  character,  or  despoiling  her  of  her  beauty,  when 
offers  of  marriage  were  presented  to  her  in  a  very  business-like  manner, 
by  a  widower  of  sixty,  who  had  been  informed  of  her  skill  in  domestic 
economy,  and  who  had  a  family  of  nine  children.  Dolly,  having  lost 
her  parents,  and  supposing  that  her  sphere  of  usefulness  would  be  en- 
larged by  the  proposed  marriage,  accepted  the  terms  without  unnecessary 
delay,  and  thus  become  Mrs.  Dobson.  The  union  proved  very  satisfac- 
tory to  both  parties,  and  after  a  few  years  of  domestic  happiness,  she 
died  without  issue- 

"  Her  life  was  not  remarkable  for  striking  incident,  but  formed  an  im- 
pressive contrast  with  that  of  our  modern  heroines." 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  29 

He  entered  the  Freshman  Class  in  Union  College,  in 
September,  1824.  His  collegiate  course  was  distin- 
guished for  eminent  scholarship,  unimpeachable  con- 
duct, a  beneficial  influence  upon  all  with  whom  in  his 
new  relations  he  was  associated,  and  by  the  unintercep- 
ted  and  rapid  growth  of  all  his  fine  moral  and  mental 
faculties.  He  could  be  long  no  where  without  mak- 
ing his  presence  felt.  In  college,  where  persons,  and 
feelings,  and  interests,  become  so  intimately  blended, 
a  vigorous  and  leading  mind  soon  finds  its  claims  ap- 
preciated and  acknowledged.  Of  all  voluntary  enter- 
prises undertaken  by  the  students  for  their  improve- 
ment, he  was  either  the  originator  or  promoter.  Not- 
withstanding the  almost  continual  pressure  of  ill-health, 
during  his  whole  course  of  four  years,  but  a  single  ab- 
scence  is  recorded  against  him.  His  intimate  friends 
had  frequent  occasion,  in  later  years,  to  wonder  at  the 
extent  and  variety  of  his  attainments.  Delighting  in 
conversation,  and  endowed  with  uncommon  conversa- 
tional powers,  he  was  found  readily  and  happily  to 
illustrate  and  adorn  his  rapidly  communicated  ideas 
with  allusions  derived  from  ancient  and  modern  liter- 
ature, and  the  whole  field  of  natural  science.  We 
knew  that  after  he  graduated,  the  constant  demands 
made  upon  his  time  and  labor,  by  attention  to  the  gov- 
ernment and  instruction  of  college,  precluded  the  pos- 
sibility of  enlarged  and  discursive  reading.  His  studies 
were  by  necessity  almost  exclusively  scientific.  These 
general  attainments  were  made  while  he  was  an  un- 
dergraduate. In  addition  to  maintaining  the  first  place 
in  a  class  of  uncommon  talent  and  scholarship,  he 


30  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

found  time  to  acquire  a  respectable  knowledge  of  the 
language  and  literature  of  France — to  read  thoroughly 
some  of  the  most  profound  philosophical  writers  of 
England — to  obtain  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the 
poetry  and  deep  philosophic  meaning  of  the  ancient 
mythology  and  the  principal  Latin  poets — and  to  pe- 
ruse nearly  all  the  valuable  productions  of  English  lit- 
erature, from  Chaucer  down  to  our  own  time.  The 
peculiarities  of  the  different  British  schools  of  poetry, 
the  most  admired  beauties  of  each  author,  and  the  pro- 
minent and  most  interesting  facts  in  the  literary  history 
of  all  countries  were  made  familiar. 

And  these  acquisitions  were  made  not  by  a  recluse, 
who,  from  the  love  of  knowledge,  had  shut  up  his  heart 
to  the  claims  and  sympathies  of  the  world,  and  immur- 
ed within  the  walls  of  a  college,  had  cultivated  only 
an  acquaintance  with  books;  but  by  a  young  man 
whose  views  of  education  and  knowledge  were  entirely 
practical — whose  motto,  indeed,  both  in  thinking  and 
acting,  was  cui  bono,  in  its  most  enlarged  and  elevated 
sense; — by  a  young  man,  too,  distinguished  for  his 
agreeable  companionship,  whose  room  was  by  no 
means  the  most  retired  place  in  college,  and  whose  in- 
fluence was  in  constant  and  active  operation  in  every 
department  of  the  institution  in  which  it  could  with 
propriety  be  exerted. 

If  it  is  inquired,  how  the  accumulation  of  so  much 
knowledge  was  made  consistent  with  so  great  a  diffu- 
sion of  his  mental  efforts,  I  answer — what  was  want- 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  31 

ing  in  time  was  compensated  in  correctness  and  inten- 
sity. From  the  commencement  of  his  education  he 
had  felt  the  importance  of  those  habits  of  abstraction 
without  which  all  mental  exertion  is  painful,  and  all 
mental  productions  vapid  and  unsatisfactory.  To  the 
power  of  abstraction  he  added  the  other  means  essen- 
tial to  the  formation  of  a  well  regulated  mind — free- 
dom from  prejudice,  independence  of  thought,  and  an 
extensive  knowledge  of,  and  a  continual  reference  to, 
facts  to  correct  the  errors,  and  restrain  the  extrava- 
gancies of  his  speculative  judgments.  The  conse- 
quence was,  that  few  men  of  his  years  have  been  more 
successful  in  the  acquisition  of  learning,  thought  with 
more  justness,  or  spoken  with  more  authority.  No 
man  ever  conversed  with  him,  without  feeling  himself 
in  the  presence  of  a  well-informed,  independent  and 
accurate  thinker.  And  such  was  the  respect  contract- 
ed in  the  councils  of  the  college,  for  the  soundness  of 
his  judgment,  that  his  opinions  there  fell  from  his  lips 
with  the  force  and  authority  of  oracles. 

I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  hereafter  of  the  pre- 
vailing tendencies  of  his  mind,  and  the  peculiar  subjects 
most  congenial  to  his  tastes.  He  possessed  predilec- 
tions of  a  very  decided  character  for  particular  branches 
of  literature ;  but  in  connection  with  the  account  which 
I  have  given  of  his  varied  knowledge,  and  to  explain  his 
motives  in  sacrificing  such  predilections  to  its  attain- 
ments, I  will  quote  the  substance  of  some  remarks 
which  he  frequently  repeated  during  the  year  after  he 
completed  his  collegiate  course.  He  said  that  "soci- 


32  DISCOURSE   ON  THE  CHARACTER 

ety  imposed  upon  each  of  its  members  strong  and  pe- 
culiar obligations  arising  out  of  his  own  employment 
in  return  for  securing  to  him  its  pursuits,  emoluments, 
and  respectability.  The  merchant,  for  example,  is 
bound  to  sustain  his  credit,  and  preserve  the  soundness 
and  integrity  of  all  commercial  transactions.  The 
mechanic  is  bound  to  carry  his  trade  to  its  utmost  per- 
fection. In  like  manner,  the  educated  man  is  bound 
to  qualify  himself  to  yield  a  ready  and  satisfactory  an- 
swer to  all  questions  within  the  limits  of  science  and 
literature,  which  may  be  addressed  to  him.  Society 
has  discharged  him  from  the  painful  toil  of  those  occu- 
pations directly  subservient  to  the  supply  of  its  wants  ; 
and  it  thus  becomes  his  duty  and  appropriate  function 
to  dispel  its  ignorance  and  widen  the  boundaries  of  its 
knowledge."  How  noble  is  the  principle  which  is 
here  avowed,  and  what  could  not  have  been  expected 
from  the  efforts  of  a  man  who  sets  out  on  the  voyage 
of  life,  selecting  as  the  pole-star  of  his  course,  not  per- 
sonal aggrandizement  or  literary  fame,  but  the  faithful 
discharge  of  all  his  duties  to  the  world. 

From  one  of  the  numerous  letters,  written  while  he 
was  an  undergraduate,  to  his  friends  at  home,  I  select 
the  following  affectionate  and  grateful  expressions. — 
It  is  dated  July  10th,  1828.  "It  is  most  befitting,  now 
that  my  collegiate  course  is  near  its  completion,  (and  it 
is  in  entire  accordance  with  my  feelings,)  that  I  should 
make  a  due  acknowledgement  for  the  innumerable  fa- 
vors which  I  have  received  at  the  hands  of  my  pa- 
rents, brothers  and  sisters.  I  can  not  reflect  upon  the 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  33 

warmth  of  affection  with  which  I  have  ever  been 
greeted  as  I  approached  my  father's  fireside — upon  the 
labor  and  solicitude  which  my  friends  have  endured 
to  promote  my  ease  and  freedom  from  ease — upon 
the  privations  they  have  undergone  to  administer  to 
my  necessities  not  only,  but  also  to  my  conveniences 
and  luxuries,  and  upon  the  uniform  cheerfulness  with 
which  they  have  made  all  those  sacrifices  in  my  be- 
half, without  feeling  myself  the  happiest  of  mortals  in 
having  such  friends,  and  without  feeling  under  obli- 
gations, which  I  shall  deem  it  the  proper  study  of  my 
life  in  some  measure  to  repay.  I  hope  the  day  will 
never  dawn  upon  me,  when  it  shall  repent  my  friends 
to  have  done  all  this — when  they  shall  have  the  pain 
of  feeling  that  their  great  and  unremitted  exertions 
have  been  thrown  away." 

This  is  the  language  of  a  man,  who  has  been  charg- 
ed with  moroseness,  but  never  was  a  charge  more 
reckless  and  unjust.  A  feeble  constitution,  made  fee- 
bler still  by  confinement  and  application,  the  acuteness 
and  sensibility  of  his  moral  perception,  and  his  own 
high  standard  of  duty  rendered  him  sometimes,  though 
very  rarely,  impatient  in  the  presence  of  vice,  or  mean- 
ness, or  indolence,  or  obstinate  stupidity — but  no  friend 
that  he  has  left  behind  him  can  recall  a  single  event  to 
awaken  resentment,  or  infuse  one  drop  of  bitterness 
in  the  cup  of  melancholy,  but  sweet  remembrance. — 
It  was,  besides,  natural,  and  in  entire  consistency  with 
the  best  attributes  of  his  mind,  strength,  and  energy, 

5 


34  DISCOURSE   ON  THE   CHARACTER 

that  in  their  outward  showings  they  should  exhibit 
something  of  a  stern  and  abrupt  decision.  A  youth- 
ful friend,*  in  commenting  upon  the  consequences  of 
his  death,  has  thus  justly  and  beautifully  illustrated 
this  part  of  his  character.  "  When  I  first  commenced 
the  study  of  Anatomy,  I  was  greatly  offended  by  the 
want  of  smoothness  and  symmetry  in  the  human  skele- 
ton. Here  was  a  rough  knob — there  a  spinous  pro- 
cess ;  but  I  had  not  advanced  far  before  I  discovered 
that  these  identical  roughnesses  served  as  the  points 
of  attachment  of  those  muscles,  which  give  strength 
and  beauty  to  the  human  form.  So  with  Professor 
Averill.  These  very  traits  were  only  necessary  mod- 
ifications of  those  qualities,  which  rendered  him  so 
eminently  useful.  If  you  occasionally  noticed  an  un- 
pleasant sharpness,  it  was  only  the  acute  angle  of  some 
invaluable  gem."  In  the  fine  phrase  of  Burke,  when 
characterising  his  illustrious  friend,  "the  oak  with  its 
strength  must  have  its  nodocities," — but  they  only  im- 
part to  it  a  more  striking  and  picturesque  grandeur, 
while  they  do  not  lessen  its  power  of  resisting  the 
tempest,  or  supporting  the  ivy  which  clings  to  it,  nor 
do  they  deaden  the  freshness,  or  diminish  the  sweetness 
of  its  shade.  The  strong  features  of  Mr.  Averill's 
character,  his  high  designs,  and  indefatigable  industry 
in  their  accomplishment,  never  interfered  with  a  faith- 
ful compliance  with  all  his  social  and  domestic  obli- 
gations, never  rendered  him  to  his  parents  a  less  affec- 
tionate or  dutiful  son,  to  the  ignorant  who  needed  his 

*  Ed  ward  Savage,  Esq.  the  amiable  and  able  successor  of  Trof.  Averill,  in  the 
department  of  Chemistry. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVER1LL.  35 

counsel,  a  less  kind  or  judicious  adviser,  or  to  his  as- 
sociates a  less  generous,  forbearing  and  self-sacrificing 
friend. 

A  just  and  felicitous  arrangement  of  the  four  great 
parts  of  our  nature,  made  with  reference  to  their  com- 
parative influence  on  human  happiness,  occurs  in  the 
philosophical  writings  of  one  of  our  wisest  men  and 
most  successful  teachers.*  He  ranks  first  among  them, 
the  moral  sentiments — second,  the  social  affections — 
third,  the  intellectual  faculties — and  last,  the  corporeal 
powers  and  appetites.  No  man,  who  has  any  know- 
ledge of  the  moral  nature  of  his  species,  and  who  would 
not  do  violence  to  their  strongest  and  most  universal 
impulses  and  opinions,  would  hesitate  to  place  first 
among  the  means  of  genuine  happiness,  the  attain- 
ments of  right  moral  principles,  and  consequently  a 
healthful  condition  of  the  moral  feelings.  Whatever 
may  be  the  sufferings  inflicted  upon  us,  or  whatever 
the  trials  it  may  be  our  lot  to  encounter,  an  enlight- 
ened and  unsullied  conscience  is  the  "strong-siding 
champion,"  which  will  enable  us  to  endure  or  resist 
them  all.  But  there  is  reason,  perhaps,  to  apprehend 
that  there  is  a  tendency  too  prevalent,  especially  among 
intellectual  men,  to  raise  intellectual  effort  to  a  rank 
among  the  sources  of  human  enjoyment,  to  which  it  is 
not  properly  entitled.  It  is  very  certain,  that  in  none 
of  the  classes  of  society  is  the  development  of  the  so- 
cial affections  so  early  arrested,  and  their  indulgence 

*  The  Rev.  Samuel  Stanhope  Smith,  D.  D.  formerly  President  of  the  College  of 
New- Jersey. 


36  DISCOURSE  ON  THE   CHARACTER 

so  frequently  and  completely  stifled,  as  in  that  which 
professionally  pursues  literature  and  science.  The 
men  of  letters  are  proverbially  an  irritable  race.  And 
the  philanthropist,  in  looking  at  their  history,  is  pained, 
not  only  by  the  frequent  exhibitions  of  malice,  jeal- 
ousy and  envy,  in  their  intercourse  with  each  other, 
but  too  often,  also,  by  the  entire  disruption  of  the 
strongest  ties,  which  can  bind  men  together.  It  is  a 
sight,  therefore,  as  interesting  from  its  novelty,  as  from 
its  intrinsic  loveliness  and  beauty,  when  we  find  a  man> 
who,  during  the  most  eager  pursuit  of  literary  success, 
whether  guided  by  his  tastes,  or  stimulated  by  necessi- 
ty, remains  under  the  influence  of  the  attractions  of 
home,  and  amid  the  absorbing  and  abstracting  toils  of 
the  study,  feels  the  disposition  and  creates  the  leisure 
to  fulfill  every  filial  and  fraternal  duty,  and  to  indulge 
every  emotion,  and  perform  every  obligation  of  friend- 
ship. 

This  subject  was  a  frequent  topic  of  remark  with 
Professor  Averill;  and  his  views  with  respect  to  it  were 
beautifully  illustrated  by  his  whole  life  and  correspon- 
dence. Neither  time,  distance  or  occupations,  alien 
from  the  habits  of  his  childhood  and  those  of  his  fam- 
ily, could  draw  away  his  affections  from  that  sacred 
spot,  his  father's  fireside,  nor  weaken  his  interest  in  all 
the  little  details  connected  with  the  ease  and  happi- 
ness of  his  parents  during  their  declining  years,  or  the 
constant  improvement  and  success  of  the  younger 
members  of  the  household.  In  the  large  mass  of  let- 
ters to  which  I  have  before  alluded,  there  are  many 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  37 

dictated  by  his  affections ;  and  the  extreme  care  with 
which  they  have  been  preserved,  is  sufficient  proof  of 
the  value  which  the  receivers  of  them  set  upon  their 
contents  and  their  author. 

The  following  letters  are  selected  in  illustration 
merely  of  this  amiable  feature  of  his  character,  without 
regard  to  the  times  at  which  they  were  written. 

To  Miss  Matilda  Averill. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER — 

I  had  entirely  forgotten  that  I  owed  you  a  letter,  and  was  filled 
with  pain  when  my  brother  told  me  that  you  had  been  expecting,  with 
some  impatience,  the  payment  of  your  claim.  It  is  unaccountable  that  I 
have  not  answered  a  letter,  which  you  say  was  written  more  than  two 
months  ago.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  am  too  desirous  of  having  you  and  my 
other  dear  friends,  for  a  few  moments  at  least,  in  close  communion  with 
my  spirit,  to  let  pass  the  occasion  of  a  little  leisure  to  write  to  you.  How 
do  you  do  ?  and  how  are  you  employed  ?  and  whom  do  you  see  ?  and 
what  do  you  hear  ?  and  at  what  are  you  rejoiced  ?  and  by  what  are  you 
pained?  what  new  friends  have  you  gained,  or  what  old  friends  have  you 
lost?  You  can  hardly  conceive  of  the  emotions  which  I  often  feel,  when 
I  reflect  how  little  I  am  connected  with,  or  rather  permitted  to  take  part 
in,  those  innumerable  incidents,  which  occasion  the  joy  and  sorrow,  and 
constitute  in  fact  the  life  of  my  friends.  Nor  are  my  feelings  less  pun- 
gent, when  I  recollect  that  my  peculiar  situation  and  pursuits  have 
brought  upon  me  a  class  of  ills,  corporeal  partly  and  partly  perhaps  im- 
aginary, of  which  my  friends  know  nothing,  and  with  which  of  course 
they  cannot  sympathize.  If  I  could  have  hopes  and  fears  in  common 
with  them — if  we  could  struggle  for  a  common  good,  or  endure  a  com- 
mon evil — if  I  could  feel  that  I  was  necessary  to  them,  or  that  their  hap- 
piness was  to  be  affected  materially  by  the  issue  of  an  arduous  under- 
taking of  mine,  I  should  be  far  happier  than  I  have  been  for  a  long  time. 
Do  not  consider  me  the  most  miserable  of  men.  I  only  wish  to  intimate 
that  I  am  not  as  happy  as  I  might  be,  and  to  suggest  the  way  in  which 
you  and  my  other  friends  at  home  may  promote  my  happiness.  It  is 
this — write  to  me  often — stand  not  much  upon  ceremony — mention  not 
only  what  has  occurred  to  yourselves  and  friends,  but  also  your  plans  for 


38  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

the  future — perhaps  asking  my  advice  about  them,  and  prompting  me  to 
propose  some  in  my  turn.  You  will  thus  thoroughly  exercise  my  social 
affections,  and  multiply,  or  at  least  strengthen,  the  ties  which  bind  me  to 
life.  I  have  to  confess,  that  if  I  did  not  strive  to  prevent  it,  I  should 
sometimes  feel  my  situation  here  very  forlorn.  It  is  true,  I  have  reason 
to  suppose  that  I  have  the  esteem  of  several  valuable  friends  about  me, 
but  their  friendship  lacks  the  virtue  to  warm  a  chilled,  or  to  soothe  an 
anxious,  or  to  heal  a  wounded  spirit.  Their  affections  and  their  confi- 
dence, they  give  to  such  as  sustain  a  relation  to  them  different  from  mine, 
and  to  such  as  have  the  highest  claim  to  them.  They  bestow  upon  me 
all  that  I  can  reasonably  expect,  and  probably  much  more  than  I  merit, 
and  I  must  look  to  other  sources  therefore  for  the  warmer  sentiments. — 
To  you  I  look,  and  I  feel  confident  that  you  will  not  disappoint  me. — 
Though  I  am  shut  up  for  the  greater  part  of  my  time,  and  doomed  to  the 
solitude  and  desolateness  of  my  bachelor  condition  and  my  study — still, 
my  chief  anxiety  is  to  see  you  and  the  rest  of  the  family  happy — not 
"careful  and  troubled" — but  with  hearts  at  case,  and  at  peace,  and  in 
love  with  each  other.  This,  connected  with  the  consolations  of  Religion, 
constitutes  the  highest  terrestrial  happiness. 

To  the  same. 

UNION  COLLEGE,  Jan.  1st,  1832. 
DEAR  SISTER— 

This  is  a  day  of  festivity  with  the  multitude.  At  this  moment  the 
merry  bells  are  jingling — the  horses,  which  wear  them,  appear  to  feel  an 
unaccustomed  briskness — the  beaux,  who  ride,  seem  to  have  a  double  por- 
tion of  spirit  and  sentiment — and  the  belles,  the  inspiring  divinities  of  the 
day,  methinks  I  see  tremulous  with  pleasing  expectations,  and  resplen- 
dent with  fresh  charms.  Yet  how  various  the  emotions  which  will  be 
experienced  on  this  recurrence  of  the  New  Year — various  both  in  kind 
and  intensity.  Some  will  chiefly  look  back  with  regret,  and  bid  adieu  to 
hopes  long  cherished  with  the  warmest  fondness ;  others,  though  to  them 
the  past  has  been  chequered  over  with  disappointment,  will  not  thence 
learn  the  designed  lesson,  but  renew  their  blissful  anticipations ;  while 
others,  who  have  not  been  long  enough  exposed  to  the  fickle  atmosphere 
of  the  world,  to  have  the  dew  of  sorrow  distilled  upon  their  young  spirits, 
will  look  forward  with  eager  desire,  and  see  in  the  perspective  that  which 
alone  they  have  as  yet  experienced — the  sunshine  of  the  heart.  The  true 
Christian,  will  of  course  devote  at  least  a  portion  of  the  day  to  self-exam- 
ination, and  put  forth  a  more  ardent  prayer  for  strength  to  fulfill  his  reso- 
lution of  living  in  future  with  more  conformity  to  the  Divine  will. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERtLL.  39 

Innumerable  things  are  done  on  this  day  in  this  state,  which  are  not 
thought,  of  with  you.  Thousands  of  visits  of  two  minutes  each  are  paid, 
gifts  are  presented,  good  wishes  expressed  at  least,  if  not  felt,  and  all  an- 
imosities are  understood  to  ho  forgotten.  I  myself  shall  pass  through 
much  of  this  ceremony  —  though  I  trust  it  will  not  be  all  ceremony,  for 
I  am  attached  to  many  there  as  friends.  Yet  I  cannot  forbear,  before  pre- 
senting the  usual  congratulations  to  any  one  else,  to  express  my  good 
wishes  to  those  who,  I  know,  will  reciprocate  them  with  all  the  cordiali- 
ty with  which  they  are  conceived  by  me  —  to  those  to  whom  are  given 
as  due  the  best  affections  of  my  heart.  I  need  not  say  that  I  mean  iny 
dear  father  and  mother,  brothers  and  sisters.  That,  not  only  when  each 
successive  year,  but  when  Time  itself  shall  have  run  out  its  course,  we 
may  all  meet  in  Heaven,  is  the  prayer  of  your  affectionate  brother. 

C. 


To  Mrs.  Mary  B.  Avenll. 
MY  DEAR  SISTER  — 

I  intended,  when  I  took  my  affecting  leave  of  you  a  fortnight 
since,  to  have  discharged  the  brotherly  office  of  writing  to  you  before  this  ; 
but  poor  health  and  a  multiplicity  of  necessary  engagements  have  pre- 
vented me  from  effecting  my  purpose.  I  hope  and  trust  that  you  will 
do  me  the  justice  both  to  excuse  the  postponement  of  a  duty,  which  it 
would  have  gratified  me  much  to  have  discharged  more  seasonably,  and 
to  believe,  that  although  I  have  not  addressed  words  to  you,  my  thoughts 
in  the  mean  time,  have  often  reverted  to  you,  and  that  my  sympathies 
have  all  been  alive,  and  drawn  out  towards  you  in  this  time  of  your  af- 
fliction. My  own  grief  at  the  irreparable  and  untimely  loss  of  a  brother 
to  whom  I  was  most  tenderly  attached,  has  nearly  overpowered  me  ;  and 
yet  I  feel  that  my  occasion  for  grief  is  light  in  comparison  with  yours.  — 
You  have  been  bereaved  of  him  who  sustained  towards  you  the  closest 
and  tenderest  of  human  relations  —  a  relation  for  which  that  of  father  and 
mother,  and  brothers  and  sisters,  the  attractions  of  home,  and  the  gratifi- 
cations of  old  associations,  had  all  been  cheerfully  surrendered  —  the  hus- 
band of  your  affections  and  the  father  of  your  child.  My  heart  has  bled 
for  you,  my  dear  sister,  as  I  have  thought  of  this  distressing  bereavement 
so  afflicting  to  you,  and  under  which  our  whole  family  most  profoundly 
grieve,  and  I  have  feared  that  the  poignancy  of  your  grief  might  destroy 
your  health.  I  was  happy  to  have  this  fear  removed  by  a  letter  received 
yesterday  from  my  brother,  who  informs  me  that,  though  your'health  had 
suffered,  you  are  now  convalescent.  It  is  doubtless  criminal  to  suffer 
ourselves  to  be  consumed  by  grief,  since  even  in  the  darkest  dispensations 


40  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

of  God,  there  are  abundant  sources  of  consolation.  Those  revealed  truths, 
that  the  same  Being  who  gave  us  our  friend  has  removed  him,  and  that 
in  the  removal,  as  well  as  in  the  gift,  there  was  an  exercise  of  unerring 
wisdom,  with  infinite  henevolence,  and  that  what  we  are  prone  to  regard 
as  overwhelming  losses  may  result  in  our  everlasting  gain,  if  our  hearts 
are  rightly  affected,  should  hush  our  murmurs,  remove  our  doubts  and 
quiet,  or  even  render  joyful  our  troubled  spirits.  We  should  search  out 
such  truths,  and  cling  to,  and  profit  by  them.  It  is  in  such  trying  times, 
that  religion  yields  a  support,  which,  alas !  is  often  elsewhere  sought,  but 
not  elsewhere  found. 

I  regret  that  I  can  not  write  more.  My  time  is  all  occupied,  and  my 
health  is  not  good.  I  trust,  however,  to  be  better,  as  soon  as  I  can  secure 
more  quiet  of  mind  and  exercise  of  body. 

Very  affectionately,  yours. 

C.  AVERILL. 

The  indulgence  of  the  affectionate  disposition  in- 
dicated by  these  letters,  was  habitual,  and  seemed  to 
constitute  his  highest  happiness.  During  his  boyhood, 
while  pursuing,  at  a  distance  from  home,  his  studies 
in  preparation  for  college,  writing  letters  to  some  mem- 
ber of  his  family  was  his  favorite  recreation,  and  after- 
wards, when  his  ardent  devotion  to  science,  and  his 
situation  as  an  officer  of  college  allowed  him  but  little 
time  for  general  intercourse  or  correspondence,  every 
moment  of  leisure  was  given  up  to  communicate  with 
those  whom  he  declared  to  be  entitled  to,  and  who  in- 
deed owned  the  "  best  affections  of  his  heart."  And 
this  is  the  point  in  his  character  upon  which  the  sur- 
viving objects  of  his  love  most  fondly  attach.  Amid 
all  their  regrets  for  the  loss  of  a  son  and  brother,  en- 
dowed with  such  high  intellectual  power,  and  who  by 
his  wisdom  and  knowledge,  was  so  well  qualified  to 
advise  and  assist  them,  they  still  hold  in  fondest  re- 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  41 

membrancc  the   amiable  traits  of  his  character,    his 
kindness,  his  generosity  and  his  love. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  that  the  existence,  in  such  high 
degree,  and  such  a  constant  and  vigorous  exercise  of 
the  domestic  affections,  is  one  of  the  most  faithful  in- 
dications of  a  virtuous  mind.  Professor  Averill,  as  the 
guardian  of  students,  made  it  his  first  business,  on  their 
introduction  to  his  care,  to  become  acquainted,  as  far 
as  possible,  with  their  domestic  relations ;  thinking  that 
his  most  direct  and  effective  mode  of  appeal,  in  case 
of  moral  defalcation,  would  be  to  the  feelings  which 
spring  from  those  relations,  and  regarding  as  nearly 
irreclaimable,  the  youth  who  could  be  heedless  of 
counsel  enforced  by  the  consideration  of  a  father's  or 
a  mother's  love. 

And  how  paramount  to  all  others,  do  these  amiable 
qualities  of  character  become,  when  we  regard  human 
excellence  merely  as  an  object  of  contemplation!  The 
heart  spontaneously  and  most  cordially  responds  to 
any  exhibition  of  love.  It  is  the  attribute  of  the  God- 
head, in  which  man  is  not  only  most  deeply  interested, 
but  with  which  he  is  most  delighted.  Any  external 
type  of  it  is  most  agreeable  to  human  taste.  The  har- 
mony of  the  material  universe  touches  with  as  much 
effect  upon  the  heart  as  the  understanding  of  the  phi- 
losopher. God,  without  his  all-reaching  and  all-invit- 
ing love  would  be  only  an  object  of  fear.  A  human 
intellect — no  matter  how  great  its  strength,  or  how  ex- 

6 


42  DISCOURSE   ON  THE  CHARACTER 

tensive  its  attainments — if  its  operations  are  not  guided 
by  the  impulses  of  this  heaven-born  principle,  can  not 
attract  and  hold  the  sympathies  of  its  own  species. — 
To  this  fact,  the  history  of  literary  men  constitutes  no 
exception.  The  private  character  of  most  of  them  is 
contemplated  with  but  little  more  pleasure  than  is  that 
of  Machiavel  or  Borgia.  The  splendor  of  genius  awa- 
kens a  present  admiration;  but  if  it  alleviates  no  mis- 
ery, or  enhances  no  enjoyment,  if, 

"  Calm  as  a  frozen  lake,  when  ruthless  winds 
Blow  fiercely,  agitating  earth  and  sky," 

it  betrays  no  sympathy  with  the  joys,  or  is  unexcited 
by  the  sufferings  of  man,  its  influence  is  without  per- 
manence and  without  blessing.  With  what  instinc- 
tive fondness  does  the  most  enthusiastic  admirer  of 
Byron,  cling  to  those  expressions  of  love  for  Ada  which 
will  break  out  amid  the  paroxysms  of  his  intense  and 
multifarious  misanthropy ! 

He  was  graduated  Bachelor  of  Arts  in  July,  1828. 
His  education  was  now  complete — if  by  such  an  ex- 
pression is  meant  a  mind  thoroughly  disciplined,  and 
well  stored  with  the  elements  of  every  science.  His 
worth  had  got  to  be  understood  and  acknowledged, 
and  as  he  bade  farewell  to  the  President,  and  his  other 
guardians  and  instructors,  he  received  the  tribute  of 
their  unqualified  approbation,  and  their  congratulations 
on  the  certain  prospect  of  his  future  eminence  and  use- 
fulness. He  had  won  the  respect  of  all  his  fellow-stu- 
dents— of  many,  the  most  enthusiastic  attachment. — 


OF   PROFESSOR   AVERILL.  43 

They  continued  to  court  his  friendship  and  solicit  his 
correspondence.  And  it  was  a  tribute  paid  to  moral 
and  intellectual  worth.  He  was  poor,  and  therefore 
could  not  conciliate  by  presents,  or  by  generous  con- 
tributions towards  projects,  the  promotion  of  which  re- 
quired the  aid  of  money.  But  his  kindness,  his  talents, 
his  learning,  and  his  influence,  were  always  at  the  com- 
mand of  those  who  needed  them.  His  popularity  in 
college,  constitutes,  indeed,  an  illustrious  instance  of 
the  power  of  mere  worth  and  talent,  and  knowledge  in 
winning  the  favor  even  of  the  young  and  gay,  over  the 
fictitious  agency  of  fortune,  dress  and  fashion. 

Whether  from  accident  or  disinclination,  he  never 
became  a  beneficiary  of  any  of  the  public  charities  of 
the  country.  The  most  rigid  economy  was  therefore 
necessary,  to  enable  him  to  pursue  his  studies  without 
interruption.  His  economy,  however,  did  not  origin- 
ate in  meanness ;  but  if  not  itself  a  noble  principle,  it 
involved  the  existence  and  exercise  of  some  of  the 
highest  and  most  valuable  attributes  of  moral  charac- 
ter. The  power  of  resisting  the  temptations  of  vanity, 
impatience  under  mortifying,  embarrassing  and  gener- 
ally unnecessary  obligations,  the  acute  sensibility  to 
the  claims  of  justice,  and  above  all,  that  lofty  sense  of 
moral  integrity  and  mental  dignity,  which  disdains  to 
sacrifice  tranquillity  and  honor  on  the  shrine  of  fashion, 
or  of  pride,  are  all  essentially  implied  in  that  indepen- 
dent spirit,  which  smiles  with  pity  upon  the  insults  of 
the  vain,  and  looks,  unmoved  by  envy  or  emulation, 
upon  the  splendid  enjoyments  of  the  rich.  Such  was 


44  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

the  character  of  his  economy.  If  there  was  money  to 
spare,  it  was  applied  to  obtain  not  some  gaudy,  and  if 
he  wore  it,  misplaced  bauble,  but  to  the  increase  of  a 
library  which,  even  at  this  early  period,  contained  many 
of  the  choicest  gems  of  English  and  classic  literature. 
His  appearance  was  plain,  but  always  neat  and  cleanly 
— "  costly  his  apparel  as  his  purse  could  bear ;" — in 
short,  all  his  expenditures  were  regulated  by  that  stan- 
dard, which,  in  an  honest,  discreet  and  well-balanced 
mind,  is  implied  in  living  within  one's  means,  whatever 
they  may  be.  The  lessons  of  his  own  prudence  he 
did  not  fail  to  inculcate  upon  others.  The  close  con- 
nection which  exists  between  a  judicious  economy  and 
moral  character  and  happiness,  were  often  insisted  on 
in  the  important  relations  in  which  he  was  subsequent- 
ly placed ;  and  seldom  have  I  witnessed  more  eloquent 
expressions  of  an  honest  but  enlightened  indignation, 
than  on  occasions  when  persons  came  before  him  trim- 
med in  finery,  of  which  the  expense  was  borne  by  some 
laborious,  but  unpaid  mechanic,  or  the  mismanaged 
treasury  of  some  benevolent  institution. 

Immediately  after  his  graduation,  he  was  elected  by 
the  Association  of  Alumni,  a  Fellow  of  Union  College. 
The  appointment,  after  some  deliberation,  was  accept- 
ed. The  Association  had  not  accumulated  funds  ade- 
quate to  the  support  of  the  incumbents  of  its  Fellow- 
ships ;  and  he  had  therefore  to  discharge  the  duties  of 
an  Instructor  in  College,  to  be  enabled  to  remain  in  a 
situation  where,  better  than  any  where  else,  he  could 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  45 

extend  his  acquaintance  with  the  sciences,  and  indulge 
in  habits  and  pursuits  most  congenial  to  his  nature. 

He  now,  as  a  Tutor,  entered  upon  a  field  of  labour, 
in  which  he  has  had  few  equals  and  no  superior. — 
That  peculiar  combination  of  intellectual,  moral  and 
personal  qualities,  which  is  essential  to  complete  suc- 
cess as  an  officer  of  college,  is  a  precious  blessing  rarely 
enjoyed  by  the  great  public  institutions  of  our  country. 
Witherspoon,  Dwight  and  one  other,  whose  eloquence 
and  science  are  the  boast  and  honor  of  the  land,  but 
whose  highest  glory  it  is,  that  impelled  by  benevolence, 
and  guided  by  an  intimate  knowledge  of  the  motives 
of  human  action,  he  has  subdued  the  wayward,  re- 
claimed the  profligate,  lit  up  the  smile  of  joy  and  hope 
on  the  brow  of  many  an  anxious  and  desponding  pa- 
rent, and  through  the  medium  of  hundreds  of  well-in- 
formed, elevated  and  practical  minds,  spread  an  influ- 
ence of  incalculable  value  over  the  face  of  the  whole 
Union,  are  almost  the  only  examples  of  illustrious  suc- 
cess to  be  found  in  our  literary  history.    There  is  learn- 
ing in  abundance,  but  it  is  rendered  useless,  because  its 
possessor  is  ignorant  or  regardless  of  the  processes  by 
which  knowledge  is  acquired,  and  with  strict  reference 
to  which  should  be  conducted  the  modes  of  its  com- 
munication.    Extensive  attainments  are  not  the  surest 
guarantee  for  thorough  and  accurate  instruction.     Fa- 
miliarity with  elementary  principles  and  the  desire  to 
grasp  the  remote  abstractions  and  vast  generalities  of 
science,  often  prevent  a  proper  allowance  for  the  ig- 
norance of  pupils,  and  render  the  learned  teacher  un- 


46  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

willing,  in  the  language  of  Fuller,  to  "hang  clogs  on 
the  nimbleness  of  his  own  soul,  that  his  scholars  may 
go  along  with  him." 

But  the  greatest  attainments,  and  the  most  correct 
views  of  the  methods  of  acquiring  knowledge,  are  by 
no  means  all  the  qualifications  requisite  for  a  success- 
ful instructor.  Some  little  infirmity  of  temper,  or  im- 
perfect ideas  of  the  nature  and  momentous  importance 
of  his  office,  and  consequently  the  absence  of  a  sense 
of  duty,  may  wholly  neutralize  the  benefits  which  those 
qualifications  are  fitted  to  produce.  That  high  exercise 
of  even  Christian  charity,  "which  suffereth  long  and 
endureth  all  things,"  is  often  necessary  to  withstand 
the  provocations  of  slowness,  indolence  and  careless- 
ness. The  healthful  and  vigorous  growth  of  the  un- 
derstanding, is  so  intimately  connected  with  a  proper 
cultivation  of  the  moral  feelings,  and  a  proper  direc- 
tion of  the  principles  of  action,  that  the  one  claims  as 
much  the  study  and  care  of  the  faithful  instructor  as 
the  other. 

All  that  is  conveyed  by  these  observations,  charac- 
terized the  teaching  of  Mr.  Averill.  He  entered  the  re- 
citation room  with  very  elevated  ideas  of  the  dignity  and 
consequences  of  his  office ;  with  a  mind  full  of  know- 
ledge; with  a  complete  understanding  of  the  degree  of 
attainment  and  capacities  of  his  pupils;  with  an  ar- 
dent desire  to  benefit  them,  and  with  a  determination 
that  no  means  in  his  power  should  be  unapplied  to  the 
discharge  of  his  high  duties.  A  recitation  was  to  him 


OF  PROFESSOR   AVER1LL.  47 

an  intense  mental  effort.  A  circumstance  occurred  a 
few  years  since,  which  serves  no  less  as  an  illustration 
of  this  fact,  than  of  the  correctness  and  depth  of  his 
religious  feelings.  I  was  associated  with  him  in  the 
charge  of  a  department  of  the  college,  which  was  situ- 
ated at  some  distance  from  the  principal  buildings,  and 
it  was  therefore  most  convenient  that  all  its  exercises 
should  be  separate.  His  afternoon  recitation,  which 
filled  up  the  hour  immediately  preceding  evening  pray- 
ers, was  in  Plato  and  Aristotle.  He  desired  me  to 
supply  his  place  wThen  it  was  his  turn  to  officiate  in 
chapel.  I  was  surprised  at  such  a  request,  from  a  man 
who  never  omitted  the  discharge  of  a  duty,  and  there- 
fore desired  his  reasons.  He  said  that  he  was  so  en- 
tirely absorbed  by  his  author,  and  his  efforts  to  have 
him  freely  understood,  that  neither  his  mind  nor  his 
feelings  were  in  a  befitting  condition  to  lead  the  exer- 
cises of  an  assembly  convened  for  religious  purposes. 

The  results  of  his  instructions  are  well  known. — 
Young  men  were  apprised  of  the  existence  within  them 
of  capabilities  of  which  they  had  not  before  dreamed. 
They  had  kept  constantly  before  them  a  standard  of 
intellectual  effort  and  attainment,  which  at  once  de- 
lighted their  fancies,  and  stimulated  their  ambition. — 
The  great  productions  of  ancient  genius,  so  feebly  ap- 
preciated, indeed  so  often  hated  on  account  of  the 
painful  associations  created  by  imperfect  instruction, 
were  studied  with  zeal,  and  felt  in  all  their  beauty,  as 
taught  by  his  powerful  and  acute  mind,  and  illustrated 
by  his  minute,  various  and  general  learning.  As  a 


48  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

teacher  of  the  dead  languages  he  seems  to  have  at- 
tained perfection.  He  could  awaken  an  enthusiasm 
even  for  Aristotle.  By  working  upon  all  the  princi- 
ples of  youthful  action — the  love  of  excellence,  pride 
in  encountering  and  overcoming  difficulty,  and  by 
throwing  around  the  abstractions  of  the  Greek  Philos- 
ophy the  rich  and  glowing  illustrations  derived  from 
his  familiarity  with  that  classic  ground  "  where  at  each 
step  imagination  burns,"  he  was  enabled  without  diffi- 
culty to  carry  his  classes  through  the  most  abstruse 
and  metaphysical  authors.  An  important  feature  in 
his  mode  of  instruction,  and  one  wholly  disregarded 
by  most  classical  teachers,  must  not  here  be  over- 
looked. Many  of  those  objects  of  his  former  regard 
and  affection,  who  now  hear  me,  will  not  soon  forget 
how  impressively  he  enforced  and  expanded  the  moral 
lessons  of  Socrates  and  Cicero,  and  with  what  clear- 
ness and  spirit  he  explained  and  applied  those  funda- 
mental principles  of  the  Fine  Arts,  to  be  found  (and 
in  their  simplicity  and  truth  to  be  found  only)  in  the 
works  of  the  ancient  critics.  A  recitation  in  Aristotle 
or  Longinus  served  as  a  means  alike  of  enlarging  the 
pupils'  knowledge  of  the  language,  and  familiarizing 
his  mind  with  the  great  principles  of  poetry,  painting 
and  sculpture.  But  it  was  upon  the  moral  applica- 
tions of  the  ancient  Philosophy,  that  he  most  frequent- 
ly and  strenuously  insisted.  Enamored  himself,  and 
endeavoring  to  enamor  others  of  the  majesty  of  Truth 
and  the  loveliness  of  Beauty,  he  kept  constantly  in 
view  of  the  youthful  mind  the  maxim  of  the  Imperial 

Stoic TOV   wo1    aX>)$w£  apa  fts^aXo-^up^ov,    8ei  aya^ov   s»va< that 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  49 

virtue  is  essentially  an  element  of  greatness.  And  as 
his  pupils  left  his  recitations  in  the  Offices  of  Cicero, 
or  the  Memorabilia  of  Xenophon,  they  felt  that  they 
had  been  not  merely  reading  some  of  the  finest  pro- 
ductions of  the  human  mind,  but  were  inspired  with 
more  enlightened  ideas  of  the  nature,  and  a  deeper 
sense  of  the  force  of  moral  obligation. 

But  an  officer  of  college  has  other  duties  to  perform 
besides  those  of  instruction.  He  is,  pro  tempore,  the 
guardian  of  his  pupil.  Mr.  Averill  was  an  officer  in 
an  institution  whose  government  claims  to  be  parental. 
All  the  responsibilities,  all  the  pleasures,  all  the  anxie- 
ties and  harrassments  involved  in  that  expression,  are  to 
be  borne  or  enjoyed  by  him  who  here  receives  an  ap- 
pointment. 

Of  discipline  in  seminaries  of  education,  there  may 
be  said  to  be  two  distinct  systems  pursued  in  this  coun- 
try. One  rests  principally  upon  the  authority  of  writ- 
ten laws.  Offences,  differing  in  degree,  are  enumerated, 
and  penalties,  graduated  in  severity  from  fines  up  to 
expulsion,  are  specifically  annexed  and  are  generally 
executed.  The  system  may  have  its  advantages,  but 
certainly  is  not  wholly  parental.  The  other  reposes 
no  reliance  upon  the  influence  of  law,  but  rests  entirely 
upon  the  efficacy  of  moral  suasion.  Professor  Averill, 
whose  ideas  of  college  government  were  very  definite 
and  decided,  may  be  said  to  have  formed  his  system 
upon  a  judicious  combination  of  the  peculiarities  of 

7 


50  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

both  the  others.  He  had  general  principles  which 
were  distinctly  explained  to  all  with  whom  in  his  offi- 
cial capacity  he  was  connected,  and  he  insisted  upon 
the  most  rigid  compliance  \vith  the  obligations  they 
imposed.  But  no  occasion  was  allowed  to  pass  unim- 
proved, of  expressing  to  a  student  his  tender  interest 
in  his  welfare,  or  urging  upon  the  erring  the  voice  o-f 
warning,  or  rewarding  the  virtuous  or  industrious  with 
the  smile  of  approbation  or  encouragement.  If  one  fea- 
ture more  than  another  marked  his  mode  of  discipline, 
it  was  a  vigorous  and  even  active  energy.  His  vigi- 
lance and  his  wisdom  were  a  visible  and  felt  influence. 
When,  a  few  months  before  his  death,  he  was  obliged 
to  relinquish  all  attention  to  his  duties,  and  go  away 
from  college,  it  was  frequently  remarked  to  me  by  those 
who  had  been  under  his  general  superintendence 
merely,  but  whom  he  did  not,  at  the  time,  meet  in  the 
recitation  room,  that  they  most  felt  his  absence,/^-  the 
life  of  the  section  was  gone. 

Many  of  his  maxims  of  government  were  striking, 
and  some  were  wholly  original,  or  bold  innovations 
upon  principles  of  ancient  discipline.  The  phrase, 
"  being  sent  for" — for  example — has  in  most  colleges 
acquired  a  technical  sense.  To  him,  therefore,  an  es- 
sential particular  in  whose  system  was  frequent  and 
frank  personal  intercourse  with  students,  it  appeared 
necessary  that  the  expression  should  be  deprived  of  its 
odious  meaning,  and  that  a  young  man  should  feel  that 
as  he  approached  his  officer,  he  should  not  as  a  matter 
of  course,  anticipate  a  disagreeable  interview.  The 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  51 

objects  of  his  charge  were,  therefore,  as  frequently 
"sent  for,"  to  listen  to  general  inquiries  about  their 
concerns,  or  to  have  their  fidelity  and  worth  applauded, 
as  to  have  their  misconduct  reproved,  or  their  exertions 
stimulated.  Many  instances  might  be  related  of  this 
attention  to  minute  details.  Their  importance  will  be 
readily  felt  by  all  who  have  been  engaged  in  the  busi- 
ness of  education. 

During  his  connection  with  students  as  their  instruc- 
tor and  guardian,  he  had,  of  course,  occasionally  to  en- 
counter a  wayward,  obstinate  and  vicious  mind.  His 
conduct  in  such  cases,  was  always  fearless,  decided 
and  conscientious.  Looking  only  to  ultimate  results, 
and  proceeding  upon  favorable  views  of  human  nature, 
he  felt  confident  that  his  treatment  would  be  finally 
approved  by  the  very  persons  to  whom  its  plainness  or 
severity  was  at  first  so  galling.  And  such  was  gener- 
ally the  result.  He  was  instrumental,  in  many  cases, 
in  checking  the  progress  of  young  men  to  disgrace  and 
ruin ;  and  he  never  had  occasion  to  regret  the  modes 
which  he  had  pursued  in  effecting  his  purpose.  At 
the  last  commencement  he  ever  attended,  he  was  sur- 
prised at  receiving  calls  from  two  members  of  the  gra- 
duating class,  who,  at  an  early  period  of  their  course, 
he  had  been  compelled  to  treat  with  some  degree  of 
asperity.  As  they  had  studiously  avoided  the  depart- 
ments of  science  of  which  he  had  the  superintendence, 
he  presumed  that  he  had  drawn  upon  himself  their  per- 
manent resentment,  and  therefore  concluded  that  he 
must  content  himself  with  the  consciousness  of  hav- 


52  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

ing  done  them  service.  But  the  hour  of  reflection  had 
come ;  that  great  crisis  in  a  student's  life,  the  breaking 
up  of  his  college  associations,  had  led  them  to  review 
their  past  history,  and  the  consequence  was,  that  their 
last  act,  previous  to  their  departure,  was  an  acknow- 
ledgment to  him,  that  for  all  the  merit  they  had  acquir- 
ed, and  all  the  respect  they  could  claim,  they  were  in- 
debted to  his  prompt,  vigorous  and  salutary  discipline. 

%  « 

Let  no  man  think  that  he  is  securing  the  true  and 
permanent  regard  of  mankind,  by  indulgence  to  their 
follies  or  their  vices.  In  the  emphatic  language  of  Pre- 
sident Wayland — "  The  young  man  may  applaud  the 
negligent  and  pusillanimous  instructor;  but  when  that 
man,  no  longer  young,  suffers  the  consequence  of  that 
neglect  and  pusillanimity,  it  is  well  if  a  better  spirit 
have  taught  him  to  mention  the  name  of  that  instruc- 
tor in  any  other  terms  than  those  of  bitter  execra- 
tion."* 

To  some  it  may  seem  extravagant  eulogy,  to  dwell 
so  much  upon  the  skill  in  government,  of  a  subordinate 
officer  of  an  institution,  which  is  understood  to  be  un- 
der the  superintendence  and  control  of  one  master 
mind.  To  such  it  is  necessary  to  say,  that  Mr.  Averill, 
during  the  last  four  years  of  his  life,  had  the  entire  res- 
ponsibility of  directing  a  separate  department  of  the 
college,  which  generally  embraced  about  one-third  of 
the  students.  During  the  whole  of  this  period,  the  in- 
terference of  the  President  was  never  required.  He 

*  Elements  of  Moral  Science,  Book  II. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  53 

had,  iu  fact,  before  lie  had  reached  his  thirtieth  year, 
to  assume  all  the  responsibilities  of  the  Presidents  of 
most  of  our  colleges,  and  that  too  under  the  great  dis- 
advantage of  having  a  higher  authority  above  him,  to 
which  the  refractory  or  discontented  might  appeal.  If 
his  success  was  eminent,  it  was  effected  by  the  force 
of  mere  personal  character. 

I  have  been  thus  particular  in  detailing  his  views 
and  conduct  as  an  officer  of  college,  because  it  was 
upon  his  success  as  such,  that  his  friends  founded  their 
anticipations  of  his  future  eminence  and  usefulness.  I 
proceed  briefly  to  relate  the  remaining  incidents  of  his 
life.  In  July,  1831,  the  term  of  his  fellowship  expired, 
and  he  was  immediately  appointed  by  the  Board  of 
Trustees,  Adjunct  Professor  of  Chemistry  and  the  An- 
cient Languages.  The  only  change  in  his  condition, 
effected  by  this  appointment,  was  the  title  and  an  in- 
crease of  salary,  as  during  the  previous  year  he  had 
performed  all  the  laborious  duties  of  the  department  of 
Chemistry.  During  the  summer  term,  he  also  read 
lectures  on  Botany  and  Mineralogy.  In  July,  1832, 
he  was  promoted  to  the  honors  and  emoluments  of  a 
full  professorship. 

This  year,  besides  being  marked  by  the  usual  rapid 
growth  of  his  scientific  attainments  and  reputation,  is 
particularly  distinguished  in  his  history  by  the  publi- 
cation, during  its  course,  of  the  only  two  compositions 
of  much  importance,  which  he  ever  allowed  to  pass 
through  the  press.  The  students,  in  the  fall  of  1831, 


54  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

had  organized  a  branch  of  the  American  Association 
for  the  promotion  of  Literature  and  Science.  He  was 
elected  their  first  orator,  and  produced  a  discourse,  of 
which  those  to  whom  it  was  addressed  thought  so 
well,  that  they  insisted  upon  its  immediate  publication. 
The  only  use  which,  on  the  present  occasion,  I  would 
make  of  this  address,  is,  by  a  few  extracts  from  it,  to 
illustrate  some  of  the  characteristic  qualities  of  his 
mind  and  his  opinions  on  some  important  subjects — 
his  boldness  and  originality — his  somewhat  peculiar, 
and,  it  is  believed,  just  views  of  the  moral  and  political 
evils  to  which  our  country  is  exposed,  and  the  high 
standard  by  which  he  always  estimated  the  duties  of 
an  American  citizen. 

The  American  Association  was  a  great  design. — 
Whatever  opinions  may  have  been  held  with  respect 
to  the  feasibility  of  its  plans,  it  was  acknowledged,  by 
all  who  had  the  patience  to  examine  its  claims  to  pub- 
lic attention,  and  the  candor  to  judge  fairly  of  them,  to 
have  originated  in  very  enlightened  views  of  the  moral 
and  scientific  wants  of  the  country,  and  in  the  most 
fervent  and  enlightened  patriotism.  Its  provisions 
were  all  republican.  By  creating  a  correspondence 
between  all  parts  of  the  Union,  it  aimed  at  destroying 
sectional  differences  of  feeling  and  opinion,  and  by 
drawing  around  one  great  common  interest,  the  sym- 
pathies and  exertions  of  every  citizen,  to  lay  a  surer 
foundation  than  it  was  supposed  existed  for  the  perpe- 
tuity of  our  institutions.  It  proposed  plans  for  expe- 
diting the  progress  of  science,  and  rapidly  diffusing  its 


OP  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  55 

blessings  among  all  classes  of  the  people;  and  while 
its  highest  honors  were  to  be  conferred  only  on  the 
most  eminent  success,  the  way  was  opened  and 
smoothed  to  their  attainment  by  the  humblest  member 
of  the  Republic. 

Such  a  plan  was  precisely  fitted  to  arrest  the  atten- 
tion and  enlist  all  the  powrers  of  a  man  of  Professor 
Averill's  patriotism  and  love  of  science.  The  Associ- 
ation had  been  violently  attacked,  and,  as  was  thought, 
without  reason ;  and  by  men,  indeed,  who  acknow- 
ledged they  did  not  understand  its  principles.  The 
scheme  and  the  opposition  to  it  alike  seem  to  be  for- 
gotten. The  introduction  of  these  observations  was 
deemed  necessary  to  explain  the  exhibitions  of  esprit 
du  corp,  and  occasionally  some  asperity  of  remark, 
in  a  discourse  produced  by  a  mind  eminent  for  its 
calmness  and  its  balance. 

The  Address  comprises  the  discussion  of  two  topics 
- — first,  the  duties  of  the  educated  youth  of  our  coun- 
try, as  derived  from  the  moral  and  social  evils  which 
threaten  us ;  and  secondly,  the  facilities  afforded  by 
the  Association  for  the  performance  of  those  duties. — 
In  the  illustration  of  both  these  points,  there  is  an  in- 
dependence of  thought  and  a  warmth  of  expression, 
which  indicate  the  highest  confidence  in  the  justness 
of  his  opinions,  and  which  could  proceed  only  from 
the  strongest  conviction  of  their  practical  importance. 
Hence  the  apparent  egotism,  and  the  effort  which  is 
very  visible  throughout  the  discourse,  to  have  it  under- 


56  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

stood,  that  all  his  statements  rest  on  his  own  responsi- 
bility. The  necessity  of  frequently  and  urgently  warn- 
ing a  prosperous  and  rapidly  progressing  people  against 
the  dangers  to  which  they  are  exposed,  and  which  suc- 
cess is  so  likely  to  keep  out  of  view,  the  tendency 
amongst  us  to  sacrifice  every  thing  that  is  truly  valuable 
to  the  acquisition  of  wealth — the  prominence  of  this 
idea,  in  most  American  minds,  over  every  other — its 
incongruity  with  the  rapid  increase  and  wide  diffusion 
of  knowledge — and  as  a  consequence  of  all  these,  the 
low  standard  of  attainment  and  effort  among  those 
who  claim  to  represent  American  Science  and  Liter- 
ature— were  topics  on  which  he  often  dwelt,  both  in 
conversation  with  his  friends  and  in  the  course  of  his 
public  instructions.  The  Address,  indeed,  is  only  a 
more  formal  statement  of  opinions  which  he  had  long 
held,  and  of  principles  which  he  deemed  of  vital  im- 
portance to  the  welfare  of  his  country.  Of  their  un- 
popularity, he  was  himself  convinced,  and  from  the 
following  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  friend  Dr.  Tick- 
nor,  it  will  appear  that  their  publication  was  a  sacri- 
fice of  what  his  friends  deemed  his  interest,  to  what  he 
felt  to  be  his  duty:  "I  have  lately  delivered  an  address 
before  a  branch  of  the  American  Association,  at  Sche- 
nectady.  I  am  urgently  solicited  to  publish  it.  It  was 
not  written  for  the  press,  and  will  be  likely  to  get  me 
much  abuse.  I  have  taken  a  view  of  things  .different 
from  that  ordinarily  taken,  and  have  been  particu- 
larly plain  in  stating  my  views  of  our  American  pro- 
fessors, and  of  the  operations  of  some  bodies  of  men 
who  have  assembled  at  different  times  for  the  purpose 


OF  PROFESSOR   AVERILL.  57 

of  forwarding  the  cause  of  science.  Some  of  my  best 
friends  in  the  Faculty,  are  very  desirous  that  I  should 
comply  with  the  request,  but  desire  me  to  modify  some- 
what what  I  have  said  on  these  two  topics.  But  I  can 
do  no  such  thing.  I  am,  and  I  trust  I  ever  shall  be, 
willing  to  sacrifice  any  sickly  feeling  of  regard  for  in- 
dividuals, classes,  or  even  common  and  old  opinions, 
when  they  are  in  direct  opposition  to  what  I  consci- 
entiously believe  to  be  individual  or  public  good.  The 
address  will  not  do  me  much  credit  in  a  literary  point 
of  view ;  and  as  it  wears  a  fault-finding  complexion, 
and  hence  will  be  likely  to  raise  a  feeling  against  me, 
it  may  be  impolitic  for  me  to  suffer  it  to  be  published." 

"  The  duties  of  a  citizen  of  a  state,  must,  of  course,  vary  with  the  form 
of  its  government;  the  nature  of  its  institutions;  the  particular  juncture 
of  its  affairs ;  and  -with  his  own  qualifications,  to  contribute  to  the  im- 
provement of  what,  in  those,  is  defective,  and  to  the  perpetuation  of  what 
is  perfect,  or  of  what  it  is  desirable  to  perpetuate.  By  keeping  this  pro- 
position in  view,  you  will  more  easily  perceive  the  relevancy  to  the  pro- 
posed subject,  of  much  of  what  I  shall  say.  Now  our  government,  in- 
stitutions, and  affairs,  are  all  peculiar;  and,  by  consequence,  the  duties 
which  devolve  upon  us,  as  citizens,  are  as  peculiar.  We  enjoy  greater 
blessings,  or  are  endowed  with  greater  and  more  numerous  privileges, 
than  any  other  people  under  Heaven ;  and,  since  privilege  always  im- 
plies responsibility,  and  responsibility  duty,  we  owe  more  duties  than  any 
other  people. 

"One  great,  though  fearful  privilege;  or  rather,  the  one  sole  or  chief 
source  of  our  privileges,  is,  that  almost  every  man  in  our  community,  is 
made  the  depository  of  political  power.  Yes,  the  ark  of  our  political 
safety  rests  upon  the  shoulders  of  a  whole  people.  How  important  then, 
that  their  path  should  be  plain  and  smooth  before  them ;  that  they  should 
walk  cautiously  therein;  that  they  should  not  fall  out  by  the  .way;  that 
the  precious  burthen  which  they  bear,  should  be  properly  divided,  so  that 
the  weak  may  not  be  oppressed,  and  that  the  strong  may  not  become 

8 


58  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

wanton  and  riot;  and  that  they  both  may  not  be  overwhelmed  by  the 
wreck  of  that  which  was  riot  constructed,  and  which,  if  wrecked,  could 
not  be  repaired  without  the  expense  of  years  of  misery  and  of  rivers  of 
blood !  And  for  its  preservation,  what  patience  should  each  be  prepared 
to  exercise ;  what  privations  to  encounter,  and  what  sacrifices  to  make ! 
How  should  each  consider,  that  he  has  an  invaluable  property  in  it,  and 
cling  to  it  as  to  his  chief  good ;  nor  despair  of  saving  it,  even  in  its  most 
forlorn  state ! 

"But  whilst  all  these  things  are  essential,  indeed,  apparently,  indis- 
pensable to  the  supporters  of  that  sacred  fabric,  do  they  possess  them  ? 
Alas !  that  I  cannot,  in  general,  answer  yes.  But  hosts  are  "walking  in 
paths  which  they  know  not;  others,  reckless  of  the  public  good,  are  mad- 
ly bent  upon  the  gratification  of  their  inordinate  desires,  for  wealth  and 
power ;  minorities  are  desperately  impatient  of  laws  which  majorities 
enact ;  party  strife  disturbs  the  balance  of  political  justice ;  and  many  a 
desperado  may  be  found,  who  would  rejoice  at  the  destruction  of  the  state, 
for  the  chance  that  he  might  pocket  something  brilliant  from  its  ruins  ! 

"  In  tracing  this  very  brief  and  hasty  sketch,  I  have  colored  with  truth 
rather  than  with  flattery.  I  have  sought  to  awaken,  in  you,  prudent  fears 
rather  than  to  foster  a  pernicious  pride.  I  know  that  such  sketches  are 
disagreeable,  and  that,  therefore,  they  are  seldom  drawn.  I  know  that 
I  might  have  wedded  fancy  to  fact,  and  that  from  this  very  common, 
though  not  always  profitable,  conjunction,  I  might  have  derived  a  pic- 
ture, that  would  have  delighted  those  deceived  by  it,  and  caused  them 
to  be  confident  in  hope  and  to  glow  with  pride  and  ambition.  I  might 
have  dwelt  upon  the  equal  operation  of  our  laws ;  upon  the  perfection 
and  strength  of  our  constitution ;  have  discoursed  how  each  department 
of  our  government  holds  a  most  salutary  check  upon  all  the  others,  and 
yet  in  what  admirable  concert  and  harmony,  they  combine  to  answer, 
entirely,  every  important  end  of  government.  I  might  have  assured 
you,  that  the  integrity  of  this  constitution,  has  a  sufficient  and  a  never 
failing  safeguard  in  the  intelligence  and  patriotism  of  the  American  peo- 
ple. I  might  then  have  turned  your  charmed  attention  from  the  gov- 
ernment to  the  governed ;  to  the  unexampled  increase  of  their  numbers ; 
to  the  vast  extent  of  their  territories;  to  the  prodigious  growth  of  their 
capital ;  to  their  magnificent  and  rapidly  extending,  internal  improve- 
ments, in  the  forms  of  canals  and  rail  roads,  indissoluble  bonds,  to  bind 
together  the  interests  and  affections  of  remote  districts ;  to  their  emula- 
tion in  the  improvement  of  the  liberal  and  mechanic  arts;  and,  in  fine, 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  59 

to  their  steady,  though  swift,  and  never  to  be  retarded,  advancement  to- 
wards a  virtue,  magnificence  and  glory,  of  which  even  the  most  ardent 
school  boy  patriot  has  scarcely  dreamed !  I  might  have  thrown  such  a 
brilliant  radiance  around  this  picture,  that  in  viewing  it  some  might 
have  been  so  dazzled,  as  to  conceive  that  they  have  nothing  to  fear,  but 
every  thing  to  expect;  that  they  will  only  have  to  open  their  coffers,  to 
have  them  filled ;  that  they  will  only  have  to  aspire  to  the  high  places 
of  distinction  and  power,  to  be  straightway  elevated  there;  and  that  their 
whole  pathway  to  the  tomb,  will  be  broadly  traced  by  light  and  joy,  and 
will  remain,  in  all  its  brightness  and  felicity,  to  be  trodden  by  their  re- 
motest posterity !  Oh !  it  is  more  agreeable — it  is  easier  to  dream  of  a 
golden  age,  than  to  provide  securities  against  the  evils,  or  evil  tendencies 
of  our  own.  But  it  is  not  more  wise.  Indeed  it  must  be  the  height  of 
folly,  to  jeopardize  an  invaluable  good,  by  overlooking  an  evil;  to  stum- 
ble on  destruction,  by  being  entranced  in  visions  of  bliss. 

"Heaven  forbid,  that  I  should  attempt  to  draw  a  thick  veil  over  just 
and  ample  causes,  for  our  pride  and  our  rejoicing ;  but  while  light  and 
relief  are  given  to  these,  it  should  not  be  concealed,  that  other  causes  lurk 
behind,  which  may  effect  our  ruin.  I  am  far  from  wishing  to  induce 
you,  to  sacrifice  your  present  enjoyment,  to  useless  and  painful  forebod- 
ings ;  but  there  is  a  kind  of  caution,  which,  ivhile  it  does  not  materially  di- 
minish the  intensity  of  happiness,  is  necessary  to  its  perpetuity.  To  the 
exercise  of  this,  I  would  most  urgently  persuade  you,  and  would  admon- 
ish each  one  of  you,  to  mark  well,  lest  many  things,  which  we,  as  Amer- 
icans, hold  most  dear,  and  are  placing  nearest  our  hearts,  may  prove  vi- 
pers there. 

"  Now,  every  mind  in  our  republic,  may  think;  every  mouth  speak, 
and  every  hand  act,  for  itself,  in  reference  to  any  subject — political,  mo- 
ral, or  religious ;  and  we  would  not  barter  these  glorious  prerogatives  of 
freedom,  for  any  earthly  consideration,  nor  part  with  them,  but  with  our 
lives.  But  do  we  not  find  abundant  reason  for  fearful  apprehension,  in 
the  reflection,  that  while  they  are  the  most  powerful  instruments  of  good, 
they  may  prove  the  most  destructive  engines  of  evil  ? — that  so  many 
more  act,  than  do,  or  are  competent  to  think? — that  the  multitude  are, 
for  the  most  part,  tools,  ready  for  the  hands  of  the  designing? — and  that 
many,  who  profess  to  investigate  and  make  deductions  for  themselves, 
conscientiously  and  perseveringly  enter  upon  courses  of  action,  directed 
by  the  most  narrow,  misguided  and  partial  views? 


60  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

"We  boast  of  the  unprecedented  increase  of  our  population,  as  giving 
us  strength  at  home,  and  respect  and  the  power  of  conquest  abroad. — 
But  have  we  no  reason  to  suspect,  that  increased  ignorance,  misery,  crime, 
and  licentiousness,  are  its  concomitants  ?  While  we  boast  of  the  power 
of  our  people,  have  we  no  reason  to  fear  their  fury,  which,  if  not  repress- 
ed, would  be  more  to  be  dreaded  than  that  of  unchained  lions? 

**  We  expand  with  admiration  and  pride,  as  we  stretch  our  eyes  across 
our  vast  territories.  But  should  we  not  at  the  same  time  dread,  lest  the 
pulses  of  state,  may  send  into  its  remote  extremities  too  sparingly,  the 
life-blood  of  interest  and  patriotism,  to  promote  their  growth,  increase 
their  vigor,  and  preserve  their  attachment  to  our  body  politic  ?  Is  it  not 
most  seriously  to  be  apprehended  that,  as  districts  are  more  and  more 
remote  from  each  other,  their  interests  should  appear  to  be  less  and  less 
mutual,  to  be  separate  and  to  conflict  ?  and  that  what  has  been  our  proud 
boast  may  prove  our  bane  ?  Or  rather  have  not  these  apprehensions  be- 
come sad  realities  ?  Are  not  loud,  though  respectful,  and,  perhaps,  too 
well  founded  complaints  of  an  illiberal,  unjust,  and  impoverishing  policy, 
wafted  to  us  from  afar  by  every  breeze,  accompanied  by  strong  remon- 
strances against  oppression  by  spirited  petitions,  for  redress,  and  by  so- 
lemn protestations,  that,  unless  this  be  promptly  rendered,  the  oppressed 
must  either  be  destroyed,  or  throw  off  the  authority  of  their  oppressors  ? 

"But  our  internal  improvements!  our  internal  improvements!  Ah! 
what  a  charm  is  in  those  sounds !  Internal  improvements !  Their  very 
name  dissipates  despondency.  For  in  them,  we  think,  we  see  a  bond  of 
union ;  a  tower  of  strength,  and  a  mine  of  wealth.  They  are  to  make 
neighbors,  and  of  course  friends  of  the  ardent  south,  and  the  frozen  north ; 
of  the  barren  east  and  the  fertile  west.  They  are  to  carry  away,  and  that 
too  by  steam,  all  bones  of  contention,  all  rocks  of  offence,  till  not  enough 
will  be  left  for  cabinet  curiosities !  Unity  and  affection  will  grow  luxuri- 
antly upon  the  soil,  whence  these  shall  have  been  removed ;  and  we  shall 
exhibit  a  people,  all  immensely  rich  and  all  exceedingly  attached  to  each 
other,  almost  in  spite  of  ourselves !  The  generous  earth  will  become  still 
more  generous.  She  will  yield  her  bounteous  gifts  to  our  improved  ma- 
chinery, and  we  shall  nearly  escape  that  fearful  and  divine  malediction, 
'  In  the  sweat  of  thy  face,  shalt.  thou  eat  thy  bread  all  the  days  of  thy  life' ! 
We  shall  have  nought  to  do  but  to  ride  and  to  revel,  and,  that  too,  at  a 
rapid  rate !  Improvements  will  do  every  thing !  I  beg  you  not  to  mis- 
take me.  If  I  have  here  shown  levity,  I  assure  you  that  it  is  of  sadness, 
rather  than  of  mirth.  I  know  that  our  internal  improvements  have  im- 


OF   PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  61 

mortalized  their  projectors;  are  admirable  in  the  eyes  of  the  world;  and 
promise  great  national  benefits.  But  I  confess  to  you,  that  I  shudder, 
when  I  think  that  I  foresee  their  ultimate  effect  upon  the  condition  and 
morals  of  our  people.  I  cannot  listen  to  the  lofty  songs  of  congratulation 
with  which  their  commencement,  progress  and  completion  are  celebrated, 
without  sounding  some  discordant  notes  of  alarm.  True,  they  will  greatly 
contribute  to  the  development  of  our  physical  resources;  they  will  im- 
part a  surprising  impulse  to  enterprise  and  to  trade ;  they  may  cause  wealth 
to  flow  in  upon  us  like  the  tide.  But  wealth  is  not  intelligence,  virtue, 
magnanimity  or  patriotism.  It  is  not  their  parent  even ;  but  their  most 
certain,  and  fell  destroyer.  It  may  wrap  our  land  in  an  effulgence, 
bright  as  that  of  the  comet ;  but  like  the  comet,  it  will  carry  with  it  a 
blighting  influence — it  will  portend  pestilence  and  destruction.  It  may 
sooth  our  souls  in  sweet  delirium;  but  this  delirium  will  be  the  presage 
of  death.  Do  I  exaggerate  the  pernicious  effects  of  wealth?  Do  you 
behold  her  accursed  train,  luxury,  effeminacy,  vice,  crime  and  disease? 
If  not,  will  you  look  upon  the  wrecks  of  fallen  nations,  and  read  their 
consequences  there? 

"But  you  may  think  that  I  am  frightened  by  a  picture,  which  my 
imagination  has  formed  of  scanty  materials ;  that  no  real  danger  exists 
of  this  vast  increase  of  wealth.  Was  ever  a  people  so  strikingly  charac- 
terized as  ours,  by  an  all  absorbing  passion  for  wealth  ?  so  celebrated  for 
their  enterprise  and  for  their  innumerable  and  ingenious  contrivances,  for 
begetting  and  increasing  it  ?  Did  ever  a  government  afford  so  many  faci- 
lities and  encouragements,  for  gratifying  this  passion?  Did  ever  a  coun- 
try possess  greater  physical  resources  for  wealth,  than  ours  ? 

"It  may  be  thought,  however,  that  since  the  wealth  of  other  countries 
was,  for  the  most  part,  acquired  by  rapine  and  extortion,  whilst  ours  will 
be  the  fruit  of  honest  industry,  or  of  ingenious  art,  we  need  not  fear  those 
evil  consequences  of  it  which  destroyed  them.  Let  us  not  be  deceived 
by  such  fallacious  suggestions.  The  decaying  process  may  in  our  case, 
be  slower  than  in  theirs ;  but  without  an  omnipotent  interposition,  it  will 
be  as  certain  and  as  complete.  Prodigal  sons  will  forget  the  toils  of  their 
virtuous  fathers,  and  laugh,  in  mixed  joy  and  derision,  at  the  uncouth 
manners,  the  plodding  labors,  and  the  frugal  habits  of  those,  whom  they 
will  be  pleased  to  call  stupid  fools;  and  in  the  profusion  and  waste  of 
whose  wealth,  they  will  sate  their  sensuality.  The  virtue  of  a  people, 
will  ever  be  corroded  and  consumed  by  wealth,  as  long  as  they  carry 
about  them  the  lusts  of  the  flesh,  the  lusts  of  the  eye,  and  the  pride  of  life. 


62  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

*'  I  know,  that  when  the  evil  effects  of  wealth  are  alluded  to,  by  those 
who  apprehend,  from  them,  danger  to  the  permanency  of  our  institutions, 
the  sanguine  patriot  exultingly  points  to  our  peculiar  statutes  of  inheritance, 
conveyance  and  distribution,  as  though  they  can  prevent  the  existence  of 
overgrown  estates,  and  preserve  that  uniform  diffusion  of  wealth,  which 
while  it  affords  a  general  competency,  excludes  luxury  and  greatly  pro- 
motes virtue.  It  would  ill  become  me,  to  attempt  to  detract  from  the  wis- 
dom which  our  fathers  showed,  in  destroying  all  priviledged  orders,  and 
leaving  each  one  to  profit  by  his  own  prudence,  industry  and  sobriety; 
or  to  suffer  from  his  improvidence,  idleness  and  profligacy.  But  al- 
though the  wisdom  of  those  measures,  is  highly  commendable,  I  must 
express  my  decided  conviction,  that  they  cannot  effect  the  entire  object 
for  which  they  were  designed.  They  will  occasion  a  more  easy,  or  a 
quicker,  transfer  of  property  from  one  hand,  or  family,  to  another  ;  but 
they  will  never  effect  a  uniform  distribution  of  it.  Money  has  an  attrac- 
tion for  money,  as  the  particles  of  quick-silver  have  for  each  other.  It 
seems  impossible  to  destroy  this  attraction,  by  enactments.  And  so  strong 
has  it  shown  itself,  notwithstanding  our  boasted  laws  for  the  purpose  of 
weakening  it ;  that  already,  even  in  the  infancy  of  our  republic,  and  with 
our  moderate  accumulation  of  capital,  it  has  raised  the  clamor  of  agra- 
rianism.  Indeed  nothing  will  prevent  its  accumulating  to  an  alarming, 
a  fatal  extent,  unless  there  shall  be  created  some  strong  diversion  from  its 
all-engrossing  pursuit. 

"But  are  all  just  grounds  of  apprehension,  confined  at  home?  Have 
we  nothing  to  fear  from  abroad  ?  Our  fleets  and  armies ;  our  naval  skill 
and  military  prowess ;  as  they  are  utterly  incompetent  to  protect  our 
constitution,  preserve  our  union,  and  to  form  our  glory  and  happiness  at 
home ;  so  are  they,  of  themselves,  insufficient  to  protect  us  from  foreign 
aggression,  and  do  not  form  our  proudest  title  to  respect  abroad.  But  we 
need  not  increase  them.  They  are  not  suited  to  our  exigencies.  They 
are  the  instruments  and  munitions  of  tyrants,  who  are  enthorned,  not  in 
the  hearts,  but  upon  the  bodies  of  their  people :  whose  dominion  is  of 
physical  might,  and  must  be  maintained  by  physical  strength,  by  fleets 
and  armies.  But  they  are  too  wise,  to  employ  these  against  us.  They 
dare  not  send  here  their  servile  troops,  to  behold  the  blessings  of  freedom  ; 
to  breathe  the  infectious  air  of  liberty ;  and  to  carry  back  insubordination 
and  enmity  to  despotic  power. 

"It  is,  however,  highly  important  for  us  to  know,  that  they  are  training 
and  keeping  in  full  pay  an  army,  not  of  flesh  and  blood,  to  whose  fidelity 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL,  63 

and  efficiency  they  are  much  indebted  for  the  stability  of  their  thrones ;  and 
upon  whose  insidious  attacks  and  destructive  mode  of  warfare,  they  con- 
fidently count  for  the  subversion  of  our  free  institutions ;  an  army  of  so- 
phisticating follies,  extravagancies  and  vices ;  whose  skill  is  fatally  ex- 
hibited in  creating  a  disgust  for  the  practice  of  those  simple  virtues,  which 
are  essential  to  the  existence  of  freedom.  Against  those  we  need  most 
vigilantly  to  guard,  as  they  make  conquests  in  disguise;  most  strongly 
to  defend  ourselves,  since  when  once  they  have  made  a  lodgement  in 
a  land,  their  devastating  progress  through  it  can  scarcely  be  prevented. 
The  voluptuousness  and  corruption  of  courts,  can  more  easily  effect  our 
destruction,  than  the  swords  of  armed  myriads :  for 

"  Unless  corruption  first  deject  the  pride 
And  guardian  vigor  of  the  free-born  soul, 
All  crude  attempts  of  violence  are  vain : 
For  firm  within,  and  while  at  heart  untouched, 
Ne'er  yet  by  force  was  freedom  overcome." 

"  Such  are  the  foes  which  we  have  chiefly  to  fear,  and  to  fortify  our- 
selves against,  from  abroad.  And  who,  from  the  hasty  views  which  I 
have  taken,  can  not  perceive  the  peculiar  exigencies  of  our  country ;  and 
from  these  infer  the  services  which  she  requires  from  her  educated  sons? 
Who  does  not  see,  that  perfect  as  we  think  our  government,  it  is,  of  all 
governments,  the  most  easily  dissolved  ?  that  there  is  but  one  step  be- 
tween democracy  and  anarchy  ?  and  that  it  requires  the  most  strenuous 
efforts  of  the  wise  and  the  good,  to  prevent  the  people  from  taking  it  ?  Is 
it  not  evident,  that  our  institutions,  based  as  they  are,  upon  the  intelli- 
gence, virtue  and  true  interests  of  a  great  people ;  and  embracing  so 
many  elements  of  good  and  evil  in  conflict;  must  be  sustained,  if  sus- 
tained at  all,  by  those  whose  minds  have  been  disciplined  by  reflection, 
and  stored  with  knowledge ;  whose  passions  have  been  subdued,  or  trained 
to  virtue ;  and  whose  magnanimity  will  convince  the  people,  that  indi- 
vidual interests  are  identical  with  those  of  the  republic  1  Yes,  our  bul- 
warks of  defence,  and  our  bonds  of  union,  must  be  our  virtue  and  our  in- 
telligence. The  engines  with  which  we  must  repel  tyranny,  and  arrest 
the  march  of  corruption,  are  the  pulpit,  the  forum,  and  the  press.  And 
you,  and  such  as  you,  must  man  them.  It  is  not  extravagance,  in  me  to 
say,  that  a  certain  tone  of  public  morals,  must  be  created  and  fixed ;  a 
certain  illumination  of  the  public  mind,  upon  political  and  other  subjects, 
must  be  effected  by  our  educated  young  men,  or  they  will  outlive  their 
freedom.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  that  our  country  is  fast  approaching  an 
awful  crisis.  If  those  great  constitutional  questions,  which  now  so  fear- 


64  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

fully  agitate  her,  are  not  calmly  and  liberally  discussed,  and  clearly  and 
satisfactorily  settled;  if  the  states,  which  are  now  inimical  to  each  other, 
are  not  brought  to  embrace  as  friends;  if  the  social  and  intellectual  con- 
dition of  our  people,  is  not  improved;  if  the  possession  of  wealth  is  not 
made  a  less  enviable  distinction ;  and  if  there  is  not  an  end  put  to  intrigue 
and  corruption,  she  will  be  convulsed  to  her  centre,  with  internal  dissen- 
sions, and  experience  fully  the  direful  scourge  of  civil  war.  Now,  upon 
whom  falls  the  arduous  responsibility  of  averting  these  impending  cala- 
mities? Who  has  the  patriotism,  the  moral  courage,  to  attempt;  who 
the  wisdom,  the  moral  strength,  to  effect  the  subjugation  of  these  threat- 
ening evils  ?  Surely  none  other  than  our  educated  young  men ;  you,  and 
such  as  you !  You  only  have  heads  to  counsel,  if  others  have  hearts  to 
act.  But  if  you,  the  highly  favored  sons  of  your  country ;  whom  she  re- 
gards with  her  fondest  hopes ;  whom  she  hath  distinguished  by  her  rich- 
est gifts;  whom  she  hath  chosen  and  fitted  to  be  her  brightest  ornaments, 
her  only  true  nobility:  if  you,  whose  minds  she  has  enlightened,  and 
taught  to  feel  the  full  enjoyment  of  freedom,  and  to  perceive  its  only  safe- 
guard, do  not  cherish  a  warmth,  and  a  strength  of  patriotism,  which 
would  prompt  you  to  undertake  the  most  difficult  enterprises  in  her  be- 
half, where  else  may  we  find  it  ?  I  doubt  not  your  devotion  to  your  coun- 
try. I  do  not  doubt,  that  you  would  glory  in  enduring  any  privations ; 
in  making  any  sacrifices,  that  you  saw  required  by  her  necessities.  I 
am  sure,  that  wrere  an  armed  force  to  invade  our  shores,  you  would  meet 
them  with  the  alacrity,  and  oppose  them  with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  Em- 
met; and  that  you  would  repel  them  at  the  hazard  and  even  the  sacrifice 
of  your  lives. 

"But,  thank  Heaven,  such  service  is  not  likely  to  be  required  at  your 
hands.  Thank  Heaven,  your  country  does  not  call  you  to  put  on  your 
swords  and  bucklers;  to  leave  your  cheerful  homes,  to  feel  the  fury  of 
'  grim  visag'd'  war ;  to  engage  in  conflict  with  ensanguined  hosts,  and  to 
die,  perchance,  in  defence  of  what  you  hold  most  dear. 

"But  she  calls  loudly  upon  you  to  arouse  yourselves  from  those  de- 
lightful reveries,  in  which  you  feast  upon  visions  of  splendor  and  happi- 
ness ;  to  leave  your  bowers  of  ease,  and  to  gird  yourselves  up  for  the 
cultivation  of  her  moral  husbandry ;  a  Herculean  labor,  indeed  ;  but  then 
how  rich  a  harvest  will  suceed  and  reward  it ! 

"  Here  are  wild  and  pestilence-breathing  passions,  Pythian  monsters, 
whose  destruction  would  immortalize  an  Apollo,  to  be  chained  or  destroy- 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  65 

ed ;  sinks  of  corruption,  Augean  stables  to  be  cleansed  ;  the  secret  and 
crooked  ways  of  intrigue,  labyrinths  more  intricate  than  the  work  of  Do- 
dulus,  to  be  laid  open  and  straightened ;  the  rough  places  of  animosity  to 
be  smoothed ;  the  chasms  worn  by  sectional  interest  to  be  filled ;  the 
deep,  dark,  dank  thickets  of  ignorance  to  be  penetrated  and  removed,  and 
the  many  weeds  of  error,  which  have  sprung  up  in  those  thickets,  and 
grown  with  a  black  luxuriance  to  be  carefully  extirpated  and  burned." 


"I  need  not  labor  to  show  you,  what  increased  power,  combinations 
or  concerted  actions,  give  to  the  production  of  any  desired  change, 
whether  for  good  or  for  evil ;  whether  in  science,  politics,  morals  or  reli.-*- 
gion.  It  has  been  the  chief  study  of  despots  to  prevent,  and  their  greatest 
difficulty  to  resist  and  destroy  them.  On  the  contrary,  the  patriot  and 
the  philantropist,  have  ever  zealously  sought  their  aid,  in  weakening 
the  arm  of  oppression,  and  in  mitigating  the  curses  of  evil.  Nor  are 
they  of  less  power  and  efficiency,  in  matters  of  science.  For  proof  of 
this,  I  need  only  refer  you  to  the  grand  results,  which  are  manifestly 
due  to  the  learned  societies  of  England,  France,  and  Germany.  How 
much  dignity  have  they  lent  to  scientific  pursuits ;  how  many  ingenious 
investigations;  how  much  profound  research;  and  how  many  highly 
useful  discoveries,  have  been  occasioned  by  a  zeal  and  emulation,  en- 
gendered by  them !  In  such  zeal  and  emulation,  it  must,  with  shame,  be 
confessed,  that  the  professedly  scientific  gentlemen  of  America,  have 
been,  with  hardly  an  exception,  sadly  deficient.  Truth,  indeed,  will  not 
allow  me  to  ascribe  all  of  this  deficiency,  to  the  want  of  a  society,  simi- 
lar to  those,  to  which  I  have  referred.  For  our  professedly  scientific 
gentlemen  are,  nearly  all  of  them,  presidents  and  professors,  in  our  col- 
leges and  schools.  And  you  must  have  observed,  what  I  here  affirm 
to  be  true,  that  they  have,  too  frequently,  been  called  to  the  stations 
which  they  occupy,  not  by  reason  of  their  eminent  devotion  to  science  ; 
nor  for  their  eminent  scientific  attainments.  They  have,  for  the  most 
part,  been  selected  from  those  who  had  attained  to  deserved  celebrity,  in 
their  profession ;  but  who,  when  elected,  were  less  qualified  for  their  pro- 
fessorships, as  far  as  scientific  attainment  is  a  qualification,  than  they 
were  at  the  time  of  their  graduation.  They  have  been  appointed,  with 
a  view  to  benefit  the  college,  rather  than  the  students ;  for  the  weight  of 
character,  and,  by  consequence,  the  number  of  students  which  they  could 
bring  to  the  institution,  rather  than  for  the  amount  of  science,  which  they 
were  fitted  to  impart  to  the  pupils.  But  this  is  not  all.  Almost  as  soon 

9 


66  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

as  seated  in  their  professorial  chairs,  they  have  sought  and  indulged  in 
all  the  ease  which  their  situations  afforded.  They  have  done  no  more, 
than  they  were  obliged  to  do,  to  be  respectable.  By  a  common  consent, 
they  have  refrained  from  disquieting  each  other,  and  so  have  slept  on. — 
While  they  have  been  studious  to  avoid  invidious  comparisons  between 
themselves,  they  seem  to  have  been  content  to  be  a  little  more  learned 
than  their  pupils,  or  others  who  were  not,  like  themselves,  presidents 
or  professors.  And  this  has  been  very  easy  ;  for  the  acquisition  of  wealth, 
or  of  political  distinction,  has  so  much  employed  the  talents,  and  occu- 
pied the  time  of  those  others,  as  to  have  prevented  them  from  acquiring 
so  much  science,  as  would  enable  them  to  disturb  the  self-complacency, 
or  interrupt  the  ease  of  our  public  instructors.  Now  I  am  conscious,  that 
if  I  make  an  entirely  general .  application  of  these  animadversions,  1 
shall  do  some  injustice.  There  are  a  few,  who  are  ambitious  of  some- 
thing more  than  an  easy  situation,  and  an  empty  name  at  home ;  who 
desire  to  elevate  our  standards  among  all  classes;  and  to  be  distin- 
guished, and  make  our  science  respectable  abroad.  These  are  prevented 
from  traversing,  very  extensively,  those  fields  of  knowledge,  which  have 
already  been  well  explored  by  others ;  and,  much  more  from  penetrating 
unknown  regions  and  making  original  discoveries,  by  reason  of  their  al- 
most constant  employment  in  teaching.  Such  should  receive  honor  and 
sympathy,  rather  than  contempt  and  censure." 


"  It  can  not  be  otherwise,  than  that  a  select  corps,  composed  of  the  most 
gifted  and  scientific  young  men  from  all  parts  of  our  country  ;  placed  in 
some  central  and  conspicuous  situation ;  content  with  the  competence  and 
distinction  which  their  station  will  confer  upon  them  ;  and  devoting  them- 
selves, without  interruption,  and  with  great  responsibilities,  to  scientific 
pursuits,  must  make  a  proficiency  honorable  to  themselves,  and  exert 
an  influence  highly  beneficial  to  our  country.  From  their  great  acqui- 
sitions ;  the  mode  of  their  appointment,  and  their  relation  to  the  different 
Associate  branches ;  they  will  acquire  a  respect,  and  exert  an  authority 
which,  while  they  will  concentrate  and  regulate  effort,  will  create  an 
emulation,  that  will  greatly  advance  our  science.  Our  presidents  and 
professors  will  thus  receive  an  impulse,  which  will  be  transmitted  from 
them  to  their  pupils,  and  efficaciously  felt  through  all  grades  of  educa- 
tion, and  through  all  ranks  of  society  among  us.  An  action  and  a  reac- 
tion will  thus  be  created,  followed  by  the  best  results.  At  length,  in- 
stead of  being  sneered  at  from  abroad,  for  having  no  scientific  character, 
we  shall  be  highly  respected  for  one ;  and  our  savans,  instead  of  follow- 


OF   PROFESSOa   AVERlLL.  67 

ing,  longo  intervallo,  et  baud  passibus  aequis,  in  the  footsteps  oi'  others, 
will  be  enabled  to  walk  honorably  by  their  sides,  and  to  sustain  a  suc- 
cessful competition  with  them,  for  scientific  distinction.  Instead  of  form- 
ing a  wretchedly  barren  province  of  the  republic  of  letters,  and  of  being 
incapable  of  independent  existence,  as  we  hitherto  have  been,  we  shall 
acquire  the  importance,  and  be  allowed  the  powers,  privileges,  honors 
and  dignities  of  a  sovereign  state.  Although  now  we  are  not,  we  then 
shall  be  competent  to  prepare  scientific  works  to  be  used  by  ourselves, 
and  to  be  sought  for  and  respected  abroad.  Our  National  Society  will 
thus  form  a  rich  fountain,  whence  will  flow  copious  streams  of  know- 
ledge, which  will  be  fed  by  kindred  rills,  and  be  distributed  through  a 
thousand  channels,  bearing  light  and  purity  through  every  part  of  our 
community. 

"  Now  I  can  not  sufficiently  express  to  you,  the  deep  sense  that  I  feel 
of  the  peculiar  and  vital  importance  to  us,  as  a  free  people,  of  that  in- 
creased attention  to  learning  and  the  arts,  which  such  a  society  would 
effect.  I  confess  that  I  do  not  understand,  or  can  not  reconcile,  with 
either  wisdom  or  patriotism,  the  language  of  those  who  endeavor  to  dis- 
suade from  attempts  to  elevate  our  standards  of  education,  by  assurances 
that  our  country  is  not  ready  for  them.  What!  shall  we  leave  our  peo^- 
pie  to  become  turbulent  and  factious  through  a  want  of  extended,  and 
enlightened,  and  liberalizing  views?  Shall  we  leave  them  to  trifle  with, 
and  to  cast  away  their  liberty,  for  the  want  of  sufficient  knowledge  to 
appreciate  its  value,  and  to  desire  its  permanency?  Shall  we  expose 
them  to  the  ruinous  machinations  of  adventurers  and  demagogues,  by 
our  feeble  efforts  to  give  them  that  intelligence,  which  would  enable 
them  to  judge  correctly,  of  the  designs  and  measures  of  their  rulers?  I 
know  that  the  currents  of  the  affections  of  our  people,  set  with  almost  an 
irresistible  impetuosity,  to  other  objects  than  to  science  and  the  arts.  I 
know  that  pomp  and  plenty;  wealth  and  power;  are  the  idols  to  which 
the  creatures  of  the  times  do  most  fervently  bend  their  devotions.  I  know 
that  their  innumerable  projects;  their  restless  and  bustling  activity,  for 
gratifying  their  avarice  and  ambition,  seem  incompatible  with  the  quiet 
pursuits  of  knowledge.  They  are  so :  but  shall  the  philanthropist  and 
the  patriot,  who  see  these  things,  and  perceive  their  tendency,  fold  up 
their  arms,  and  leave  the  proper  field  of  their  exertion,  saying  that  the 
country  is  not  ready  for  their  labors?  Shall  they  refrain  from- effort  until 
ambition  shall  be  glutted  with  supremacy  ;  until  wealth  shall  bave  be- 
gotten luxury  and  corruption ;  and  till  science  and  the  arts  shall  only  be 
handmaids  to  vice?  I  trust  that  you  will  not.  I  conjure  you  by  all  which 


68  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

you  prize,  in  our  free  institutions ;  by  your  regard  for  human  virtue  and 
human  happiness,  and  for  your  own  dignity  and  safety,  not  to  yield  to 
such  discouraging  suggestions ;  hut  to  be  untiring  in  your  efforts  to  ac- 
complish the  difficult,  yet  glorious  purposes  which  you  have  proposed  to 
yourselves.  A  society  composed  of  such  materials,  and  instituted  in 
such  a  manner,  and  with  such  relations  as  that  which  you  have  project- 
ed, would  possess  an  incalculable  power  to  direct  public  opinion,  and  to 
change  the  objects  of  public  pursuit.  Will  you  fail  to  employ  it,  in  im- 
proving the  condition,  and  in  brightening  the  prospects  of  our  country- 
men ;  in  alluring  them  to  science  and  to  virtue ;  and  in  causing  them  to 
feel,  that  wisdom  is  the  principle  thing,  and  that  she  only  can  bring  them 
to  true  honor  ? 

"  Besides  these  effects  which  our  society  is  calculated  to  have  upon 
our  education,  and  through  it  upon  our  morals,  there  is  one  other  which 
it  is  eminently  suited  to  produce,  and  which,  in  the  present  state  of  our 
country,  would  be  of  the  very  highest  importance.  I  mean  a  good  un- 
derstanding, and  a  firm  attachment  between  states  which  are  remote 
from  each  other.  While  they,  by  their  augmented  intelligence,  would 
be  better  qualified  to  judge  of  their  mutual  interests  and  claims,  there 
would  be  in  the  society,  a  representation  from  those  states,  uninvolved  in 
petty  politics,  unbiassed  by  local  prejudices,  and  untramelled  by  heated 
and  misguided  constituents,  which  would  be  able,  most  independently, 
dispassionately  and  wisely,  to  discuss  those  hitherto  angry  questions, 
which  have  arisen  out  of  those  interests  and  claims,  and  to  decide  them, 
if  they  can  be  decided,  to  the  acceptance  of  the  people. 

'*  Gentlemen,  I  have  enumerated  but  few  of  the  advantages,  which  the 
Associate  Society  affords  to  you  and  to  the  educated  young  men  of  our 
country,  in  the  discharge  of  those  momentous  duties,  which  devolve  upon 
you  and  them.  I  am  conscious  that  I  have  not  done  justice  to  those, 
which  I  have  enumerated.  But  I  may  not  detain  you  longer.  If  I  have 
at  all  deepened  your  sense  of  responsibility ;  if  I  have  given  you  any 
encouragement  or  impulse  to  endeavor  to  fulfil  the  design,  which  you 
have  so  wisely,  and  patriotically  formed,  I  have  attained  a  very  impor- 
tant object.  And  now  in  view  of  what  you  have  done,  and  what  you 
propose  to  do,  1  can  not  better  conclude  than  in  the  words  of  Cicero : — 
Quamobrem  pergite,  ut  facitis,  adolescentes,  atque  in  id  studium,  in  quo 
estis,  incumbite,  ut  et  vobis  honori,  et  amicis  utilitati,  et  reipublicae  emo- 
lumento  esse  possitis. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVER1LL.  69 

The  following  letter  from  Professor  Park,  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  Pennsylvania,  was  written  in  acknowledge- 
ment of  the  receipt  of  a  copy  of  the  Address.  Profes- 
sor Park  was  deeply  interested  in  the  success  of  the 
Association,  and  indeed  may  be  regarded  as  its  founder: 

Professor  C.  Aver  ill. 

NEWPORT,  FEB.  9,  1832. 
My  DEAR  SIR— 

I  have  just  finished  the  perusal  of  your  Address  to  the  Associate 
Society  of  Schenectady,  and  need  not  say  how  much  I  have  heen  grati- 
fied in  the  sentiments  which  it  inspires,  the  energy  it  infuses,  and  the 
encouragement  it  presents  to  all  the  Associates,  in  a  cause  of  which  we 
need  not  be  afraid  or  ashamed.  I  could  have  wished  that  the  paragraph 
relating  to  the  Literary  Convention,  and  that  in  which  my  name  is  men- 
tioned, had  not  heen  printed,  as  we  are  invited  to  he  on  terms  of  amity 
with  the  Convention ;  and,  moreover,  we  may  be  deemed  by  the  public 
too  much  interested  in  our  own  cause,  to  be  qualified  to  pass  judgment 
upon  it,  or  its  opponents  and  advocates.  In  the  other  sentiments  of  your 
Address  I  most  cordially  concur,  and  am  indebted  to  you  for  an  intellec- 
tual banquet  of  no  ordinary  kind. 

Allow  me  to  suggest,  if  it  be  not  supererogatory,  that  it  would  be  highly 
proper  that  each  of  the  Associate  Societies  should  receive  one  or  more 
copies.  It  would  give  renewed  confidence  to  the  other  Societies  to  learn 
that  they  are  to  receive  so  much  support  from  yours. 

I  have  been  fully  convinced,  since  I  saw  you  last,  of  the  necessity  of 
making  the  Societies  immediately  useful,  each  in  its  own  sphere,  em- 
bracing all  the  various  objects  of  the  various  local  societies,  so  frequent 
in  towns  and  villages.  To  those  who  prefer  lectures  and  addresses,  these 
may  be  given  as  in  the  lyceums ;  to  those  who  love  warm  debates,  a 
field  will  be  opened  as  in  debating  societies,  &c.  &c.  Different  meet- 
ings may  be  appointed  for  these  different  objects,  thus  developing  all  the 
talent  of  a  neighborhood — but  all  in  connection  with  the  Associate  Soci- 
ety. By  thus  covering  the  whole  ground,  we  obviate  the  necessity  of 
more  new  societies ;  we  induce  those  already  formed  to  unite  with  us,  and 
unite  the  citizens  of  each  district  in  the  most  friendly  relations.  As  the 
societies  spread  and  knowledge  is  diffused,  we  may  begin  to  look  more  to 
our  ultimate  objects — the  building  up  of  a  National  Academy  of  truly 


70  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

learned  men,  selected  by  those  who  are  best  qualified,  and  the  extension 
of  national  literature  and  seience. 
Very  truly, 

Your  friend  and  servant, 

ROSWELL  PARK. 

His  other  publication  was  a  "  Treatise  on  the  Dis- 
infecting Powers  of  Chlorine,"  written  and  published 
during  the  prevalence  of  Asiatic  Cholera,  at  the  request 
of  the  Hon.  John  I.  DeGraff,  then  Mayor  of  Schenec- 
tady.  The  readiness  with  which  this  valuable  tract 
was  furnished,  (for  it  was  written,  printed  and  in  cir- 
culation within  four  days  of  the  Mayor's  letter  of  re- 
quest,) is  a  proof  alike  of  his  prompt  benevolence,  of 
the  extent  of  his  knowledge,  and  of  the  facility  with 
which  he  could  command  and  apply  it. 

From  Professor  Sttliman,  of  Yale  College. 

NEW-HAVEN,  JULY  19,  1832* 
PROFESSOR  AVERILL — 

DEAR  SIR  :  I  have  just  received  and  read  with  great  satisfaction, 
your  printed  letter  to  Mr.  DeGraff,  on  the  Disinfecting  Powers  of  Chlo- 
rine. Cleanliness,  sobriety,  firmness  in  the  discharge  of  duty,  and  a  set- 
tled confidence  in,  and  submission  to,  Divine  Providence,  are  undoubt- 
edly our  best  preservatives  from  this  dreadful  pestilence.  Still,  no  wise 
man  will  neglect  the  use  of  the  means  of  prevention  which  science  may 
discover,  or  accident  throw  in  his  way ;  and  it  would  be,  indeed,  a  most 
unfortunate  retrograde  step,  to  abandon  the  use  of  Chlorine  or  of  its  pre- 
parations. The  facts  cited  by  you,  are  sufficient  to  satisfy  any  mind 
open  to  the  admission  of  truth,  and  were  there  occasion,  a  host  of  similar 
facts  might  be  adduced.  I  have  enclosed  some,  drawn  from  my  own 
observation,  wrhich,  if  they  should  tend  to  strengthen  the  favorable  im- 
pression which  must  have  been  produced  by  your  Treatise  upori  the  mind 
of  your  chief  magistrate  and  the  public,  please  to  communicate  to  him 
with  my  respects,  which  you  will  also  accept  for  yourself,  from, 
Dear  Sir, 

Yours  very  truly, 

B.  S1LLIMAN. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  71 

It  has  been  justly  considered  a  subject  of  regret,  that 
he  did  not  publish  more.  Like  all  men  of  well-regu- 
lated and  progressing  minds,  he  wrote  much  and  sys- 
tematically. In  examining  his  papers,  I  have  been 
greatly  surprised  at  the  mass  of  interesting  and  accu- 
rately written  compositions  he  has  left  behind  him. — 
His  common-place  book  was  always  at  hand,  and  is  a 
store-house  of  valable  and  curious  knowledge.  He 
carefully  preserved  probably  every  composition  that  he 
ever  wrote.  While  reading  a  favorite  book,  Coleridge's 
Biographia  Literaria,  he  often  observed  to  me,  that  a 
frequent  review  of  one's  intellectual  history  must  be 
one  of  the  most  effective  modes  of  acquiring  a  perfect 
education.  In  this  remark  we  doubtless  discover  his 
motive  in  treasuring  up,  so  carefully,  these  early  pro- 
ductions. It  is  believed,  that,  from  the  examples  al- 
ready given,  many  of  them  will  be  acknowledged  to 
possess  distinguished  merit.  Some  are  pervaded  by  a 
vein  of  humor  of  great  richness  and  Addisonian  deli- 
cacy. In  others  are  condensed  statements  and  appli- 
cations of  the  knowledge  he  was  gradually  acquiring, 
and  all  are  marked  by  that  characteristic  good  sense, 
and  freedom  from  extravagance,  which  belonged  to  all 
his  views,  and  all  his  intellectual  operations.  His  lec- 
tures on  chemistry,  botany  and  mineralogy,  are,  how- 
ever, the  most  voluminous,  perfect  and  valuable  of  his 
compositions.  They  contain  complete  statements  of 
all  the  ascertained  facts,  relations,  and  theories  of  those 
important  sciences;  and  often,  as  some  prospect  of 
peculiar  interest  is  opened  into  the  arcana  of  the  ma- 
terial world,  he  breaks  out  in  strains  of  beautiful  and 


72  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

eloquent  expression,  or  develops  some  impressive  illus- 
tration of  the  doctrines  of  natural  theology. 

Yet  the  incessant  engagements  arising  out  of  his 
connection  with  college,  prevented  the  cautious  and 
rigorous  revision  of  his  productions,  which  publication 
required.  We  have,  therefore,  only  to  regret,  that  we 
have  no  more  monuments  of  the  masculine,  practical 
and  learned  mind,  which  produced  the  Address  before 
the  American  Association. 

But  it  is  probable  that  another  cause  combined  with 
the  want  of  time,  to  prevent  such  preparation  for  the 
press,  as  would  be  satisfactory  to  his  own  fastidious 
judgment.  Distinguished,  as  Professor  Averill  was,  for 
what  is  commonly  termed  good  sense,  the  character- 
istic feature  of  his  mind  was  a  rare  combination  of 
great  reasoning  power,  with  an  active  and  far-reaching 
imagination.  The  exact  sciences,  attention  to  which 
consumed  the  greater  part  of  his  time,  were  not  the 
most  in  accordance  with  his  prevailing  tastes.  He 
delighted  most  in  productions  of  imagination,  and  in  a 
moral  and  mental  philosophy,  based  upon  exalted,  and 
perhaps  somewhat  extravagant  views  of  the  dignity 
and  capabilities  of  aian.  His  favorite  literature  was 
poetry — his  favorite  classic  was  Plato — his  favorite 
contemporary  author  was  Coleridge.  That  these  fond- 
nesses never  resulted  in  a  visionary  and  inefficient  sen- 
timentalism,  or  a  contempt  for,  and  neglect  of,  com- 
mon duties,  is  sufficiently  proved  by  the  even  and  use- 
ful tenor  of  his  life.  Sir  James  Mclntosh  has  said  of 


OF  PROFESSOR   AVEIULL.  73 

Bacon,  that  "  the  quality  in  which  he  most  excelled  all 
other  men,  was  in  the  range  and  compass  of  his  intel- 
lectual view — the  power  of  contemplating  many  and 
distinct  objects  together,  without  indistinctness  or  con- 
fusion. This  wide-ranging  Intellect  was  illuminated 
by  the  brightest  Fancy,  that  ever  contented  itself  with 
the  office  of  ministering  only  to  Reason.  And  from 
this  singular  relation  of  the  two  grand  faculties  of  man, 
it  has  resulted,  that  his  philosophy,  though  illustrated 
still  more  than  adorned  by  the  utmost  splendor  of  im- 
agery, continues  still  subject  to  the  undivided  su- 
premacy of  intellect.  In  the  midst  of  all  the  prodi- 
gality of  an  imagination,  which,  had  it  been  indepen- 
dent, would  have  been  poetical,  his  opinions  remain 
severely  rational."  Something  of  this  rare  species  of 
relation  subsisted  between  the  intellect  and  the  ima- 
gination of  Professor  Averill.  He  derived  intense  de- 
light from  the  contemplation  of  a  picture,  and  from 
the  study  of  the  history  of  human  nature,  especially  in 
its  more  striking  and  picturesque  attitudes.  But  the 
"supremacy  of  intellect"  continued  "undivided." — 
Fancy  furnished,  or  at  least  contributed  to  furnish,  his 
high  resolves,  his  extended  views  of  his  own  obliga- 
tions, and  the  capabilities  of  his  race;  his  elevated 
standard  of  moral  and  intellectual  effort,  and  instead 
of  enfeebling  the  claims  of  inferior  duties,  imparted  to 
the  minutest  among  them,  a  greater  importance  from 
their  connection  with  the  destiny  of  a  moral  and  ac- 
countable being.  The  two  faculties  were  precisely 
balanced — the  one  ever  arousing  and  stimulating,  the 

10 


74  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

other  calmly  and  correctly  executing.  Such  a  com- 
bination of  mental  powers,  was  favorable  to  any  spe- 
cies of  effort:  but  the  prominence  of  Imagination  ren- 
dered exertions  in  the  regions  of  literature  and  philo- 
sophical criticism,  more  natural  and  congenial  than  in 
those  to  which  his  labors  were  chiefly  confined. 

In  August,  1835,  he  was  married.  This  event  con- 
tributed alike  to  establish  his  domestic  happiness,  and 
greatly  enhance  his  intellectual  enjoyments.  It  intro- 
duced him  into  close  intimacy  with  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  social  and  literary  circles  in  America. 
He  now  possessed  all  the  essential  elements  of  earthly 
bliss.  His  industry  and  talents,  had  obtained  for  him 
an  income  adequate  to  the  supply  of  all  his  wants.  He 
enjoyed,  in  an  eminent  degree,  the  confidence  and  res- 
pect of  the  virtuous  and  the  learned.  He  had  become 
distinguished  in  a  profession,  which  he  was  pursuing 
from  inclination,  and  now  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  do- 
mestic bliss,  he  found  a  companion  who  appreciated  his 
worth  and  character,  and  sympathized  with  all  his  tastes 
and  feelings.  But  all  his  anticipations  of  deep  and  en- 
during happiness,  were  doomed  to  deep  and  bitter  dis- 
appointment. Tendencies  to  pulmonary  consumption, 
began  to  be  developed  early  in  the  winter  before  the 
last;  and  a  year  had  scarcely  elapsed,  from  the  day  of 
his  marriage,  before  his  emaciated  remains  were  de- 
posited in  the  grave — his  wife  a  widow — and  his  child 
an  orphan. 


OF  PROFESSOll  AVERILL.  75 

This  is  not  the  place  or  the  occasion  to  tell  a  tale 
of  domestic  woe,  or  of  the  conduct  of  noble  minds 
under  its  infliction. 

With  regard  to  that  which  is,  after  all,  the  point  of 
greatest  interest  in  the  character  of  an  immortal  and 
accountable  being,  his  religious  feelings  and  opinions 
— it  is  my  happiness  to  assure  his  friends,  that  he  died 
showing  every  indication  of  being  at  peace  with  God. 
During  a  long  and  most  intimate  friendship,  the  blame- 
less tenor  of  his  life,  the  frequency  and  unostentatious 
nature  of  his  deeds  of  charity,  his  punctilious  respect 
for  the  holiness  of  the  Sabbath,  and  his  daily  study  of 
the  Sacred  Scriptures,  were  facts  so  prominent  and 
constant,  that  I  never  hesitated  to  refer  them  to  the 
instigation  of  religious  principle.  With  a  mind  so 
independent,  as  on  no  question  of  science,  or  other 
worldly  interests,  to  be  willing  to  succumb  to  the  in- 
fluence of  authority,  he  yet  bowed,  with  humility  and 
reverence,  before  every  declaration  of  the  Bible,  and 
listened,  with  a  child-like  simplicity,  to  the  humblest 
exposition  of  Divine  truth.  Convinced  by  the  weak- 
ness of  his  constitution,  which  gathered  no  strength  as 
he  advanced  in  years,  that  his  hold  on  life  was  ex- 
tremely precarious,  and  severely  disciplined  by  the 
chastening  hand  of  God  in  some  afflictive  domestic 
bereavements,  he  had  learnt,  for  a  long  time  previous 
to  his  death,  to  look  upon  the  interests  of  the  future 
life  as  the  great  objects  of  human  concern,  and 

"To  walk  thoughtful  on  the  silent,  solemn  shore 
Of  that  vast  ocean,  ho  must  sail  so  soon." 


76  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

His  enlightened  and  unwavering  faith  in  the  truth 
of  Revelation,  he  neglected  to  profess  openly  before  the 
world.  And  let  those  who  would  set  a  limit  to  their 
obedience  to  the  wliole  will  of  God  be  informed,  that 
while,  during  his  last  illness,  he  was  uttering  repeated 
declarations  of  an  implicit,  unreserved  reliance  in  the 
atonement  which  the  Son  of  God  had  wrought  out  for 
his  redemption,  and  in  the  efficacy  of  that  blood  of 
Christ  which  cleanseth  from  all  sin,  tMs  was  the  of- 
fence which  continued  to  press  most  heavily  upon  his 
conscience.  "  Should  it  be  the  Divine  will,"  he  said, 
"to  restore  me  to  health,  it  shall  be  my  first  business 
to  repair  a  fault,  which,  under  any  circumstances  is 
sinful,  but  which  in  my  case  is  peculiarly  so.  I  have 
labored  with  zeal  to  discharge  my  duties  to  the  belov- 
ed pupils  committed  to  my  care,  and  I  have  reason  to 
believe  that  so  far  as  intellectual  and  moral  improve- 
ment is  concerned,  God  has  blessed  my  endeavors  with 
success.  But  how  shall  I  atone  for  the  consequences 
of  withholding  the  influence  of  my  example  on  a  sub- 
ject by  the  side  of  which  all  other  subjects  sink  into 
insignificance."  This  was  the  only  circumstance 
which  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of  his  death-bed.  His 
resignation  to  the  Divine  will — the  fervor  of  his  devo- 
tions— the  firmness  of  his  faith — and  the  confidence  of 
his  hope,  were  the  rich  consolations  which  God  im- 
parted to  his  bereaved  family,  when  he  inflicted  upon 
them  the  most  overwhelming  of  all  sorrows. 


OF  PROFESSOR  AVERILL.  77 

And  they  are  our  consolation.  And  not  only  so.  In 
my  attempt  this  evening  to  pay  this  humble  tribute  of 
respect  to  friendship,  to  talent  and  to  worth,  I  would 
not  that  these  religious  features  had  been  wanting  in 
the  character  which  I  have  endeavored  to  portray. — 
One  of  the  most  striking  results  of  the  introduction  of 
Christianity  into  our  world,  is  the  entire  revolution  it 
has  wrought  in  our  estimate  of  human  character. — 
The  religious  principle  is  a  new  element  in  the  com- 
position of  moral  greatness — more  than  this — it  is  the 
chief  characteristic  element.  The  architect  may  con- 
struct his  edifice  of  faultless  beauty;  but  if  he  would 
have  his  work  strike  with  overpowering  effect  upon 
the  imagination  of  the  beholder,  let  him,  through  it, 
awaken  some  association  with  the  destiny  of  man, 
and  by  consecrating  it  to  the  glory  of  Jehovah,  convert 
it  into  a  fountain  of  sacred  feeling,  and  of  thoughts 
which  reach  forward  into  eternity.  It  is  so  with  the 
human  soul.  It  is,  though  in  ruins,  still  a  noble  fabric. 
But  the  only  feature  of  nobility  which  it  retains,  is  its 
relation  to  God  and  immortality.  So  long  as  man's 
anxieties  and  hopes  are  fixed  exclusively  upon  the 
interests  of  the  present  life — no  matter  with  how 
much  intensity — no  matter  with  what  impressive  ef- 
fect upon  the  partial  and  shortsighted  witnesses  of  his 
puny  success — his  glory  is  yet  but  as  a  fading  flower ; 
and  when  his  course  is  ended,  the  fragrance  and  the 
beauty  are  both  gone  for  ever.  Man  is  immortal ;  and 
he  only  who  feels  and  acts  with  reference  to  this  great 


78  DISCOURSE  ON  THE  CHARACTER 

fact,  can  justly  claim  the  tribute  of  our    admiration, 
for  lie  only  feels  and  acts  as  b'efits  his  destiny, 

"  The  wise  man,  says  the  Bible,  walks   with   God ; 
Surveys  far  on  the  endless  line  of  life ; 
Values  his  soul ;  thinks  of  eternity  ; 
Both  worlds  considers,  and  provides  for  both; 
With  reason's  eye  his  passions  guards  ;  abstains 
From  evil;  lives  on  hope,  on  hope,  the  fruit 
Of  faith;  looks  upward;  purifies  his  soul; 
Expands  his  wings  and  mounts  into  the  sky ; 
Passes  the  sun,  and  gains  his  father's  house, 
And  drinks  with  angels  from  the  fount  of  bliss." 


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